#the rest of the Hunters probably just went about their business as per usual but Zoe and Bianca went with everybody else

[aroaceleovaldez]

variety in my canon-divergence aus:

Percy is successfully pulled into Tartarus during his quest to the Underworld in TLT (kronos!Percy)

Sally drives everyone home in her car after the beginning of TTC instead of Thalia driving the sun (8 hour roadtrip)

[detroitbydark]

Chapter 10

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch, Walon Vau... Every character imaginable and few that you probably didn't expect to see

Warnings: None!

Summary: Harvest Day is very busy day. The boys head home. Jessa faces some hard questions. Walon has to decide what is right for his growing clan.

A/N: 15K holy hell. Thanks your patience with this one. it was an undertaking! As always thank you to my wonderful @crimson-dxwn​ for letting me bounces ideas off of her and for her beta'ing. Thank @fractiouskat​ for being an A+ cheerleader and thank you to @royalhandmaidens​ for the greatest banner ever!

Kyr’vhetine Tuur comes on a most un-autumn like day with temperatures before the sun had fully risen already beginning to look to those of a cool summer morning. The winds had disappeared almost entirely overnight, leaving only a gentle breeze that barely kissed the nunas’ feathers

It was going to be an excellent day to celebrate the end of the growing season and the bounty of the harvest, Kal had proclaimed before the groups had split off.

Walon wasn’t one to argue the good fortune of a perfect day. He was old enough to know they didn’t come often and still young enough to appreciate it for all it was.

He pulls a deep filtered breath in while his HUD scans the surrounding tree line.

Per tradition, hunting parties had broken off at the crack of dawn in search of game. This would be one of the last good days for a hunt before the snows came and the animals disappeared into the white wonderland of northern Mandalore. It wouldn’t be prudent to attempt again until the heat of summer fell and the mothers had dropped babies and could be more easily avoided.

Rav Bralor and her boys from Yayax squad - as well as the former commander Levet - had come in the night before, much to Walon’s chagrin. Sleeping arrangements were far tighter these days with the various marriages and additional children. He’d had to put his foot down when Kal had offered his rooms up to the entirety of the Bralor clan. In compromise, Walon had allowed Rav and Levet to take up Jessa’s room and she had moved into Scorch and Sev’s while the rest of the clan piled in with the other bachelors.

Walon pretended that he didn’t know his Ad’ika had spent most nights asleep in Scorch’s bed already and simply explained that he didn’t think either commando would appreciate others sleeping in their space. She’d eagerly complied.

She was still asleep when he, Mird, Rav and Levet had gone to meet the other early risers for their hunt.

The verdant summer greens had faded first into jewel toned fallen leaves and finally crisp brown litter that spilled across the forest floor. It added a layer of difficulty that the Mando’ade found a pleasant challenge. Shatual were a finicky creature, as likely to run away from a hunter as they were to attack it. The crunch of leaves under boots was enough to solicit either response and many an unlucky Mando had found themselves enjoying the scent of bacta rather than the taste of shatual haunch after a hunt gone bad.

Each clan of the former training sergeants was represented this morning. Kal and Ordo had set off in one direction while Mereel and Corr had gone another. Rav and Levet had joined in as well. Walon, no human adiike of any ability in sight, had Mird as his hunting companion.

The strill stalks ahead through the tops of the veshuk trees, silent as death itself. The sun had yet to penetrate the forest around him and the stillness, the sheer quiet of the morning calmed him like little else could. Two days and still Fenn Shysa’s intel bothered him on a level he wasn’t familiar with.

Of course the Empire would look to make money where it could. Of course clone lives meant less now than they had to the GAR and the Republic at large.

Maybe it was the fact that they all had adiike still on the ranks - if they’d managed to survive this long - or perhaps it was the fact that they weren’t even being sold as slaves.

Walon, Kal, Rav and the rest of Cuy’val dar had raised competent soldiers, the best of the best. He himself had spouted that they were to be tools of the Grand Army, that their one purpose was fighting for the Army that in the end would give little thought to the clone -the men- they sent into battle. Now, to hear of them being sold as surplus like a decommissioned line of blasters or transports left Vau feeling sick and angry in a way that wasn’t familiar with. Righteous indignation was a state of being for Kal Skirata, but for Walon Vau it was new and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do with the rage simmering in his chest.

Mird chirps from his spot in the canopy above, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He nods carefully to the strill and readjusts his sensors to pick up heat signatures through the dense brush. Not twenty yards away a flare of color through his HUD as a great shatual buck rises from its bed, shaking its head unawares of the danger that waits for it.

Over two and a half meters from top of its dark nose to the white fluff of its tail. The spread on its rack is impressive and would make a fine display on any wall. It makes a low bellowing noise, calling for any unbred females.

Walon can see the lines of Mird’s body strung tight in preparation. It’s almost time and the Mandalorian can feel the cool calm of a hunter’s mind wash over him. There is nothing else in the moment, only hunter and prey. He says his thanks to the Manda for another day of air in his lungs and another opportunity to stalk the dark forest. He doesn’t need to look at Mird any longer. They’ve been doing this since he was a teenager. The strill is ready and waiting for the signal. Walon leans back slowly against a veshuk tree and raises his slugthrower to his shoulder. Only one word leaves his mouth.

“Oya.”

The shatual turns its head in time to see its death, teeth on display bearing down on it from the trees above.

A strill with business in mind will always go for the throat. A tiny shiver of pleasure skitters down the back Walon’s neck as the creature finds its target. It’s satisfying in a way that Walon’s never been able to put into words. The shatual tries in vain to throw the smaller strill off, shaking its big neck from side to side. Strill teeth are long and sharp and Mird will not be budged, even as blood from the shatual begins to run into his eyes. Walon watches his oldest friend readjust his grip, only his back feet touch the ground as he all but hangs from his prey. The shatual makes a forlorn sound as its front legs buckle, sending him down to his front knees.

Walon levels the sight on the slug thrower as the creature turns broadside. It bellows again but it comes out wet and choked. Vau finds the sweet spot, imagining an invisible “x” over the spot he wants to hit. He pulls in a gentle breath, all thought of auctions and clones and adiike pushed aside. He squeezes the trigger on his exhale and the shatual falls silent.

————

Sev doesn’t balk when Scorch asks to make a quick pit stop in Enceri. He doesn’t bat an eye when he forgoes their usual perusal of the blaster smiths for a box of fresh pastries. He doesn’t so much as question Scorch’s motives until they get to the flower shop. Even then it’s just more of silent Sev with extra eyes burning into the back of Scorch’s head.

The words had come to Scorch easily enough, they always did. They needed to woo their intended. He didn’t like the word courting, something about it felt too old timey and proper, not like something two former commandos turned bounty hunters would do. Sev seemed to find his explanation acceptable. He was good for rolling with the punches no matter what anyone else said. He even let his like and dislikes of the various options be known in a series of very Sev-like grunts and scoffs. Scorch liked the red ones. Sev liked the pink. They split the difference and got both and jumbled them together into - what Scorch felt - was a very appealing assortment. It took almost no time and it left the former commando pleased with his previously unknown ability to romance a woman.

And then they were heading home.

The sun had barely crested over the mountains when they arrived at the airfield and performed a quick once over of the Duke. She’d require a more thorough shakedown later but today was Kyr’vhetine Tuur - Jessa and Sev’s first on Mandalore - and in Scorch’s eyes that took precedence. His heart is light and bubbly as their speeder bikes cover the ground between the airfield and Kyrimorut. Last time they’d done this he’d had a half frozen woman wrapped in his arms and now, just months later, he was plotting ways to get her back into them. Into theirs.

He knew his vod enough to know that he wasn’t fully on board with the mission as of yet. He didn’t see the odds of a favorable success and he remained open but unimpressed by the possibility of it all. That was ok. Scorch had enough hope and atin’la for the two of them.

It’s not until Kyrimorut becomes little mounds on the horizon that the jitters start. Scorch has picked up women in cantinas. He’s taken them back to small hotels or their homes. Scorch has left everyone with a smile on their face. He has never properly courted someone. It’s been ten days and he’s starting to second guess what he thought was there. Maybe Jessa didn’t feel the same pull. Maybe the kiss was a fluke.

“Shut up.” Sev’s voice growls through their comms, “you’re thinking too loud.”

Scorch says nothing.

The yard in front of the yaim is crowded with a speeder and a trio of speeder bikes. The Bralors. Scorch frowns. He really doesn’t want to do this in front of an audience.

The pair park in the usual spot and slide from their seats. The sun is bright, its rays warming the wind whipped beskar covering them. Sev’s buyce cocks to the side as he turns toward the tree line. Scorch can make out the shape of their buir from a kilometer away.

“Went hunting without me,” Sev grumbles sounding like a petulant child who’s missed dessert.

Mird takes up position next to Wal’buir and Scorch can just make out the shape between them. Impressive.

“I’m going to go lend a hand.”

Sev is gone, taking off at a brisk jog with his pack still on his back before Scorch can say anything. If he didn’t think it’d get him slotted, he’d call him a coward.

There’s nothing left to do but take the plunge. Scorch waves to Atin and a few of the boys from Yayax squad as they head out toward the livestock pens. Chores would be done in a snap today and everyone can enjoy themselves after.

His HUD takes a moment to auto adjust from the intense bright light of the sun to the dimmer interior of their home. Conn, Burr, and Kad are all playing in the main area of the house. The three boys sit around in the floor with small carved animals playing near but not exactly with one another. Three matching heads of dark hair turn when they see him, eyes widening comically as they scrabble to get up. He’s done this a thousand times now and it never gets old. He swings his pack off his shoulder and, careful to not jostle the bouquet inside, draws out a handful of colorful hard candies. The children are nearly vibrating with excitement as he doles them out. Before he can turn to the kitchen, Conn already has three in his mouth. Bes is going to kill him, he thinks with a grin.

Surprisingly the kitchen is not the hub of excitement it usually was. He glances at his chrono. They must be having a late breakfast because of the hunt. Fi and Parja are pulling pans out of the oven and Laseema is busy filling small pots for the table with different jams and butters. Kyr’vhetine Tuur meant there would be something to eat within arm’s reach all day, so it wasn’t shocking to not see the usual spread of hearty filling dishes lining the long table.

“Scorch! You made it!” It’s Fi’s voice, bright as the autumn sun. The former Omega Squad commando greets him, ambling over and giving him a quick grasp of the forearm and knock against the bucket in greeting.

“Good to be home,” he agrees, feeling disappointment begin to sink in. Parja is grinning his way. “She’s in the walk-in. She’ll be out in a-“

There’s a clatter as a tray is unceremoniously dropped on the counter and before he can turn to see he’s got his arms full. One boot falls back to brace his weight and keep him from stumbling at the onslaught. He tenses for a moment, training threatening to kick in until thin arms are wrapping around his neck and he’s got a visor full of dark hair as Jessa presses in close to his neck.

“If this is how I get welcomed home I’m leaving more often.”

Jessa’s arms around his neck squeeze tighter as he stands straight and pulls her feet off the floor. Her legs come up, knees tightening around his hips. Scorch’s hands grip her thighs because they need support. Yeah, that’s why.

“Don’t you dare.” She whispers lowly.

“Keep this up and a guy will think you missed him.”

Scorch doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Parja and Laseema. He doesn’t hear Fi’s laughter. It’s just him and his girl and the rest of the world can kriff off.

Jessa leans back, her hands float to either side of his buyce. She stares into the T of his visor like she can see through it. The breath he’d been taking catches in his throat as she leans in and presses her forehead to his bucket.

“I missed you.” It’s so soft his buyce barely picks it up.

“Missed you too, Mesh’la.” If he didn’t have his bucket on he’d kiss her right here right now and not care who was watching. He’d push her back against the wall and he wouldn’t stop ‘til she was breathless. He doesn’t think she’d mind with the way she’s looking at him. Fett bless codpieces because his was saving his shebs from utter embarrassment.

Someone clears their throat behind them and Jessa’s pale blue eyes go wide. She wiggles against him and a small groan slips past his lips as he lets loose her legs. She untangles herself and slips to the floor, cheeks flushed crimson as she wipes at invisible creases in her pants.

Parja’s buyce cocks minutely. Scorch grins from ear to ear under the cover of his own. At Parja’s side Fi nudges her in the ribs. “How come I don’t get that kind of welcome home?”

“Bad balance.” Fi nods in understanding flushing a deep crimson as she continues. “Plus, there is that thing with my mouth-“

The former medic coughs and quickly places his hand over his riddur’s mouth. “Roger that. No need to clarify.”

Scorch reaches out, placing a hand above Jessa’s hip. When she turns he uses two gloves fingers to tip her chin up. She’s a sight for sore eyes. He wants to drag her back to the Vau side of the yaim and keep her all for himself. And Sev. Just the three of them like it was supposed to be. Only, she didn’t know that yet and they had to help her see. Her hand covers his wrist as she looks up, her skin is soft over the small strip of skin between his nerf hide gloves and where his flight suit began.

Jessa’s dark hair is pulled back into a messy top knot and she’s wearing a plain faded tunic that dips low, giving him just a peek of cleavage. She’s never looked more perfect in all the times he’s seen her.

“We brought you something.” It’s regrettable that he has to step away, he misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. He slips his pack from one shoulder and lets it slide around front. He’s careful to open it, glancing up to see her curiously eyeing him.

“It’s not going to explode is it?” The quirk at the corner of her mouth lets him know she’s joking, at least partly.

“Woman after my own heart,” he sighs dramatically. “You want fireworks? I’ll show you fireworks.”

Fi makes an ‘oof’ of pain as both his Riddur and Laseema pop him in the arm at the same time, “I didn’t say anything?!”

“You were thinking it,” Laseema says, arms crossed over her chest.

“But I didn’t say it!”

Scorch shakes his head, ignoring the audience. The bouquet is a little bedraggled, a little more worse for wear for its ride from the airfield to home. A few of the pink flowers have bent at odd angles and one of the red ones, a rose, has lost its structural integrity (and majority of its petals).

The look in Jessa’s eyes lets him know she hasn’t noticed a single one of the issues. They go wide with surprise and then crinkle at the corners as she smiles, clapping her hands together over her chest before reaching out, hand hovering just shy of the flowers.

“Scorch! They’re beautiful! And they’re for me?”

It’s a little confusing because he certainly hadn’t ever thought to bring flowers for Ordo or Atin. He nods his head and presses them into her hands.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. Sev had a hand in them too.” She pulls a long slow breath in through her nose. The scent really didn’t translate through his bucket but she seems to enjoy it.

“Sev? Sev Vau?” Fi’s voice is full of confusion. “We’re talking about the same psychopath we all know and love.”

“Hush.” Parja admonishes her husband. It’s an expected reaction. Sev was known more for his kill now ask questions later, Devil may murder attitude than he was for his softer side. In fact, Scorch was beginning to think the extent of his soft side only existed in a conveniently Jessa sized space. He was good with that. Maybe it was selfish to try to force her into a space they could both be with her. They didn’t even know if she wanted this but they had already plotted out a course of action and he was loathe to change it now. It was the Vau way. Make a plan and push forward until it worked or you died. Square peg round hole? Use a det.

Jessa folds the flimsy wrapped bouquet against her chest. She takes a step forward and Scorch can’t help but admire whatever has come over her in the ten days they’ve been hunting. She grips the back of his bucket and pulls his head down and presses against his again. There’s more confidence in that one movement than he’s seen in all the months she’s been in Kyrimorut.

“We should get those in water.” Laseema’s voice is a blessed interruption from the pure drivel he was about to spout.

Jessa nods and turns toward the cupboards, searching for something. His eyes fall to the round curve of her-

“Ahem…” his eyes snap to Laseema’s skeptical face. She’s got her arms over her ample chest and he suddenly feels the eyes of the rest of the room on him. Ok so now he feels seen. Parja is unreadable under her buyce. Fi’s eyes hold humor and Scorch knows immediately that the whole homestead - and then some - is going to know about this before the day is out.

Good. Maybe that would keep the other hounds from taking to the hunt. Not that Jessa was prey or should be hunted or…

“Scorch?”

Stang. He’s been caught. Jessa’s turned back with a stoneware pitcher and the flowers he’d given her artfully placed inside.

“Mesh’la?”

“Princess.”

All eyes turn to Sev and Walon standing in the doorway. A large shatual haunch is draped over Sev’s shoulder while their buir carefully uses a cloth to clean one of his hunting knives. He’s thankfully forgotten and Jessa passes the table, depositing the makeshift vase. She doesn’t exactly leap into his arms like she had for him but she’s still more than mildly enthusiastic to see the Mandalorian in front of her.

As usual, Sev appears impassive. The slight rise in his shoulders speaks otherwise as Jessa - much smaller than the man in front of her - comes to a stop and absolutely kriffing beams at the former sharp shooter. Wal’buir stands a step behind the pair, looking on with veiled curiosity.

“I like my flowers.”

“I picked the pink ones.” It's a Sev-level simple exchange.

“You did good,” she murmurs softly.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” It’s the first time Scorch has noticed the clean linen bandage wound around her palm. Of course, it would be the first thing Sev noticed. He watches her reaction carefully. His buir watches knowingly as Jessa tries to shrug it off.

“It’s nothing really. A little cut.”

Parja is the one to speak up this time. “Jess’ika tried to take in an entire Imp garrison in Keldabe the other day.”

Behind Sev, buir scoffs. Sev seems unamused as he brushes past her and places the freshly butchered haunch on the open durasteel prep counter and moves to the sink to wash his hands. Buir glances down at her as he passes and moves to the stack of mugs and carafes of caf sitting on the table. Apparently the old barve is going to let it play out without his intervention.

Scorch hovers in space watching as Sev turns back to Jessa. She’s shortened the distance between them and he nods to her hand. It takes a moment. Jessa clutches her wrist tightly and Scorch wonders what the Fek happened. Mird trots in from parts unknown and plops down next to buir. The merc begins cleaning off equal parts blood and saliva from the strill’s mouth as if nothing were amiss.

“It wasn’t really a big deal,” Jessa says, a defense. Fi makes a sound in his throat.

“Anytime now Princess.” As if ordered from a commanding officer she takes the final steps and holds her hand out. Scorch moves to taking up post at Sev’s shoulder as his vod begins untying the wrap.

“How long?”

Their buir answers from across the room. “Three days.”

Scorch lets out a low whistle as the bandage rolls away and the bacta soaked linen is removed. It’s nasty, deep looking. With three days worth of bacta and presumed early cleansing… he works it out in his head. It had been a bad wound. Sev is stock still, holding her hand in his palm.

“What did it?”

“My knife.” There’s no waiver in her voice, she looks him in the eye, a defiant tilt to her chin.

“You mean my knife.”

Jessa mouths falls open a hair before her teeth clack together and she sets her jaw.

Sev is unmoved. “Hand it over.”

And there goes the pleasant welcome home.

There’s more pairs of eyes on them than Scorch is really pleased about. A staring contest in the kitchen was not part of the plan. It’s a war of the wills as Sev takes a step into Jessa’s space. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t react at all.

“There’s two ways this will go and I end up with the knife in both.” Sev’s rumble is a threat that is crystal clear to anyone within earshot. He holds his unwavering gloves hand palm up between them. Scorch glances at his buir and sees a single shake of his head, fall back and wait.

Jessa pauses the length of a breath. Then she presses her injured hand hard against Sev’s cuirass for support while she pulls her leg up. Scorch has to give it to her. She keeps her eyes locked with his vod’s visor. If she were jetii his brain would probably be frying by now. He wondered if that was even possible and makes a mental note to ask Bardan later if that was a Jedi brain sizzle was a thing.

With her left hand she pulls the knife from the sheath hidden in her boot. For a second he thinks she may just drop it on the floor between them. The thought seems mutual as he glances around and the few inhabitants of the kitchen are watching with unrestrained curiosity. Jessa’s thinking very loudly. He can see it in the way her movements hitch. Had he given off that many signals Sarge would have cuffed him by now.

“Ad’ika, do give the scary Commando the weapon and be done with all the posturing.”

Jessa’s eyes drop but her voice remains steely. “Yes buir.”

There’s a lot for Scorch to unpack there, but his buir doesn’t seem willing to add anything to clarify for either of his confused sons.

Jessa presses the knife handle into Sev’s open hand. Her own ball into fists as she steps away from the larger Mandalorian in front of her. Scorch’s eyes immediately fall to the painfully slow drip of blood from her injured hand as she clenches and unclenches. Her partial handprint is painted in blood on Sev’s cuirass. Laseema notices and grabs a clean cloth. Jessa’s cheeks flush red as she turns away from both of them to face Laseema.

The Twi’lek shoots both men a dirty look as she presses the cloth into Jessa’s palm. She doesn’t flinch as the older woman fusses over her quietly. He makes out a few particularly colorful Ryl words.

“Let’s go to medical and get this redressed, ok?” Laseema’s soft voice belays the fierce glare in her eyes as they focus on Sev. With a huff and a protective arm draped around Jessa’s shoulders she ushers her toward the Skirata wing and medical just beyond.

“Real nice.” It’s Parja now on the attack, arms crossed over her chest in a manner most unwelcoming. She turns to follow the other two women. Their buir sighs deeply and Sev cocks his head at the door the three have just vanished through.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Fi says what Scorch thinks only in a much less exasperated tone than his own inner dialogue. That escalated quickly. A moment’s glance to his brother shows the other Mando is just as confused with how quickly that hit FUBAR status.

Behind them Walon Vau clears his throat. “So would my di’kutla boys care to know what happened while they traipsed across the galaxy?”

———

“You’re getting spoiled and fat, Kal.”

Walon does a fair job of hiding his amusement at Rav’s assessment of their fellow Cuy’val Dar vod.

Not to have his holiday merriment karked up by the Bralor clans matriarch Kal grins and pats the fine layer of paunch, barely noticeable around his middle.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you vod’ika”

That has Walon scoffing into his glass of ti’haar. Kyr’vhetine Tuur called for day drinking and Bralor clan had brought their latest batch, a reason for a lunchtime tasting if he’d ever heard one.

For his part, Mij Gilamar does little to hide his laughter, openly laughing at the Skirata clan leader. Rav was right, as Rav usually was. Kal’s favorite rocker had moved from its home by the hearth of the karyai to a comfortable position where he could lord over the comings and goings of the day. When lunch had been served Laseema had brought a plate loaded to the brim with the best cuts of meat, juicy orchard fruit, and freshly roasted root vegetables.

Kal turns his sharp eyes to Walon, ignoring the mirth dancing in Mij’s. “Nothing to say, Walon?”

He rolls his eyes, lowering his glass from his lips. “Rav’s assessment skills have not atrophied with age.”

Rav makes a disgruntled sound. “Thank you, Walon. I think.”

Mij, quiet to this moment, picks now to speak. “He can’t exactly say anything.”

Walon can’t exactly disagree. His own belly was quite full in part to his newest acquisition. Jessa had given him a plate - while not as loaded down as Kal’s had been - that could have easily fed two commandos. And some for Mird. She’d been very clear that she’d swiped a choice soup bone and some delightful strips of fat for the strill. His pet had taken the scraps happily before he’d been offered the bone and disappeared to do whatever it was that a strill did with bones. All Walon knew is that it would never be seen again and he wouldn’t need to clean up shards of it.

Rav leans back in her chair, not a rocker but still more comfortable than any of them had grown used to over the years, she sips her drink and Walon waits for it.

“When I heard through the grapevine that you’d adopted another I was shocked. And now that I’ve seen her I’m more so.”

There it was. There was no worse gossip in the galaxy than a Mandalorian.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Rav smiles. “Take it as you will. I’m still trying to figure out the why and obviously you are not going to illuminate us with your reasoning.”

Walon crosses one leg lazily over the other as he leans back. In a small shaded area across the open yard Jessa sits happily chatting with the Skirata wives. She looks genuinely happy and that makes him feel warm… or maybe that was the ti’haar.

As if sensing eyes on her, she turns and catches his. Her smile is radiant, like sunshine brought to life.

Walon leans forward and liberates the ceramic liquor bottle from Kal’s side and tops his glass off.

“The little ad has grown on me, much like a tumor.”

Mij, never as tolerant of alcohol as his peers, chortles merrily. “Leave it to you to compare having children to cancer.”

Walon shrugs. “Have one and find out.” Mij scoffs at the idea and the group settles into a comfortable silence.

Jessa and the wives chat idly. Further past the women, the former commandos and Null ARCs are dividing up into teams on the makeshift pitch. Some words pass between one of the Bralor adike and Walon curiously watches as Scorch grips his brother's shoulder and pulls him to a stop.

Meshgeroya would be good. The lot of them needed a good match. The amount of testosterone flying around the yaim as of late was stifling. It would be good for the mass to get it out of their systems before someone had an unfortunate incident.

“Of course it would be yours, wouldn’t it?” Rav sounds about as worried about the averted skirmish as he feels. Boys would be boys and Fett clones would be Fett clones. He hadn’t met one yet that hadn’t gotten at least some of Jango’s competitive nature.

“Who’s to say my lads started it?” He raises a brow in Rav’s direction and she challengingly raises one right back.

Kal clears his throat, drawing the attention of the trio. “We’ve got to discuss the information the Mand’alor passed along at some point.”

“Din’kartay?” Mij asks, setting his now empty glass on the ground. Kal nods. His eyes follow the first snap of the match for a few moments as bodies collide and whoops and hollers rise into the air. His eyes travel over the gathered group, all four of them sharing something no other Mandalorians could - a past and a shared future in the form of their adopted children.

“Surplus auction has been moved up.”

Walon’s eye widen. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Just got the comm this morning, after the hunt,” The greying merc explains, “It’s a week from now.”

“A week?” Rav waves it off. “We’ve planned ops in less.” Walon wasn’t feeling the same sense of comfort as his vod. Something was coming, the proverbial other boot waiting to drop.

“We’ve got a problem.”

There it was. Of course, there was a problem. Kal doesn’t wait to ratchet up the drama of it all thankfully.

“Our intel says the boys are going to be in two separate places, troopers in a subterranean holding bay and the few commandos we're expecting are going to be a part of the main auction floor, two stories up.”

Mij frowns. “So we need a two pronged approach.”

“Which means two teams with one in the actual auction itself.” Walon sighs at the realization. “And none of the boys are exactly inconspicuous.”

Kal nods sagely. “That is the issue.” His eye wanders again and still Walon feels like he hasn’t heard the worst of it. “Bes can’t go. She’s already starting to show and we can’t put her or the baby at risk.” That is valid reasoning. Walon nods slowly. “This is a high end event. The cream of the crop.”

“So that means human…” Mij says shaking his head with disgust, “Las’ika is out.”

“Parja is Mando.” Rav says with an air of pride. “She’s not going to pass for aruetii elite even with time and training.”

This time Walon follows Kal’s eyes when they stray from the group. Jessa is sitting in the small half circle of women while the children run around and play a short distance away. She glances shyly at the commandos playing their game. The shirts have come off and while the buir’e and family could tell one from the other without any issue, to the casual observer it would be hard to seperate a Skirata from a Bralor from a Vau. Parja makes a comment and Jessa’s face flushes bright red. Her anger with Sev from earlier seems to have subsided if the way she’s staring at his shebs has anything to say about it.

“Your Jess’ika came from money.” Kal presses on, a fool’s errand. “She can play in that sandbox as well as you could-“

“No. Absolutely not.” Walon doesn’t even want the idea entertained among the group.

“She won’t be in any Imperial database. She’s got no record. Who would you have go, Walon? Send a twi’lek? Send a pregnant woman?”

“Neither, but I’d also not have my child sent as a sacrifice either.” Rav and Mij are silent. Yes, keep your mouths closed as Bu and Buhi fight, he thinks sourly.

“Doesn’t she deserve the chance to say no herself?”

“Again, absolutely not. She is so eager to please and you with your words of aliit and pats on the head would have her signing up for war before she even knew what was going on.”

“If your worries are about Sev and Scorch-“

Walon holds up a hand, “they are not my concern in this, she is. I put them through the crucible myself. They are more than capable of handling anything placed in front of them. Jess’ika is an unknown commodity-“

“We’ve all been through the ringer at one point or another but-“

Walon raises a brow. “If this is going to be a story about poor Kal the war orphan you can stow it. She has no training.”

“Walon-“

“Gentlemen?” Mij asserts easily. His ire turns from Kal to his own sons as soon as his head turns a cheer of “Oya” rises up between the teams. Sev is on top of one of Rav’s boys raining hellfire while Scorch runs his yappy mouth and does a commendable job of taking a punch from another. The rest of the pack has circled and is shouting encouragement.

“Can we not just have one nice day?” he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet.

“Cov!” Rav snaps at Yayax Squad’s former sergeant from across the open yard. His enjoyment of his brother's tussle is quickly replaced by the stark realization that their buir was on her way and she was not pleased.

Walon watches as Sev slows, giving who looked to be Jind under him, a chance to breathe. He sits back on his heels still atop the prone Mando, chest heaving. He has the decency not to smile but Walon can see the delight from the little tussle dancing in his eyes.

Scorch on the other hand, continues to run his mouth as he trades blows with Yayax’s second in command, Yover.

“And now you keep your eyes where they ought to be.”

Walon can only imagine what started all of this, but he’s very clear in who’s going to be the one to finish it.

“Six-Two!” Scorch’s momentum falters as Walon snaps irritably, “Are you nearly done?”

“Yeah buir- just- about-there..”’ Scorch punctuates the last hit, slipping a foot behind Yover’s and shoving him to the ground. “Finished.”

Walon feels a surge of pride but it is far outweighed by irritation.

“Care to explain what the thought process was for this?”

Sev reaches down and helps pull Jind to his feet. He holds back a smile as Walon glares.

“Verbal correction didn’t work so methods required escalation,” Scorch explains without getting to the actual cause of the whole skirmish. “We’re good now, right ner vod?”

Yover glares balefully from his spot on the ground before nodding assent and holding his hand out. “Apologies, sergeant Vau, we were out of line and needed a quick recalibration.”

Walon’s eyes narrow. Rav has Jind by the chin, turning his face right and left assessing the damage. His eye is already swelling but it appears as if Sev worked his middle over more than anything, really rather harmless in the grand scheme of what he was capable of. The other commando appears no worse for wear.

“You said something stupid, didn’t you?” she questions, and he offers her a lopsided grin in response. Walon watches as she cuffs the larger man, though there is no real animosity behind it. He ducks and offers a sheepish, “Sorry Buir.”

“Nothing’s broken?” Mij joins the group.

“Just my pride Doc.” Jind tries to make his glance over to the group of women casual.

For the love of Fett… Walon rolls his eyes. All of this over a woman. Jessa is looking on with unshielded concern but her eyes follow Sev and Scorch as they fall back to one another’s side

- not the boys from Yayax squad.

“Your adiike ought to be muzzled, Walon,” Rav grumbles, as they step back and the men begin to reset their game.

“Probably, but they’re a bit territorial and I can’t blame them.”

Rav glances over and sighs, “I need to get mine into Enceri. Let them meet a nice girl.”

“What is it you’re saying about my daughter, Rav?”

“She looks sweet Walon but the apple never falls far from the tree, now does it?”

Walon pauses at the thought. It’s a wonder it’s never hit him before. Rav takes his silence as permission to continue.

“So will it be Sev or Scorch?”

Mij hums as if the question has occurred to him as well. Walon curses himself for not asking it sooner.

——

“It’s over with. You can relax.” Besany means well enough sitting cross legged on the blanket the small group of women shared but it’s hard to press the nerves of what she’d just witnessed to the background.

Conn, Burr, and Kad play a short ways away, oblivious to what had just transpired. They stack sticks in a tower trying to see how high they can make it before it topples over and they dissolve into laughter. Bes was probably right. This was probably normal and she needed to relax.

Jessa runs her finger along the hand sewn seam of the blanket. Her eyes follow as the stitches flow in and out of the fabric. Parja pats her hand. Jessa looks up.

“They’re fine, see?” She inclines her head toward the game that has restarted. “Sometimes things boil over, but it’s usually nothing a few well placed punches can’t settle.

“It’s just-“

Laseema offers a gentle smile. “When you haven’t seen it before it’s a little overwhelming?”

Jessa snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Terrifying maybe?” It’s Parja’s turn to scoff.

“If Sev Vau wanted someone dead they’d be dead. And in short order at that.” She gestures to the pitch and the bodies crashing together. “That was just working out a minor disagreement.”

It’s not hard for her to find the man in question among the crowd, the four jagged scars down his back stand out pink and raised over the hard planes of muscle, stark against the deep tan of his skin. Further up she can make out a circular scar, not as extreme as the other ones but perfectly symmetric as if done with a scalpel on the back of his neck. She's curious but not enough to actually ask about it. There’s a feeling that some things were sacred. Some things you didn’t just ask questions about. Even without the scars she wouldn’t be able to miss the way he moved. Like a jungle cat, he stalks from one spot to the next. He’s solid and sleek. He’s a hunter to his very core. No one else moves like him.

Scorch is simple to find for other reasons. It’s not the smattering of burns across his chest and arms or the way his sweat soaked curls stick to his forehead. No, it’s the sheer volume of his voice. Currently he’s crowing over Corr with the ball tucked under his arm. His eyes are sparkling and Jessa follows a bead of sweat as it trails from his hairline down his temple.

Sev appears at his side and butterflies tumble over one another in an attempt to escape her stomach. The sniper nudges his brother with his shoulder and says something and then both sets of eyes look up. Caught in the act of staring, she quickly looks away.

If the other women notice the interaction, they don’t let it dissuade them from the train of conversation that has seemingly jumped off the track and gone from encouraging their young friend to commenting on some of the more enticing aspects of the men on the field.

“Why are they so pretty?” Laseema asks, tipping a bottle of Ne’tra Gal up and taking a drink. Parja holds her own up in a mock toast.

“I don’t know but you’ll never hear me complain.”

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe stronger genetic variation doesn’t exist through the whole batch.” Everyone turns toward Bes. Parja nudges Jessa in the side as if to say, wait for it.

“Literally, how can there be so many perfect shebse?”

There’s a pause and then laughter bubbles up, giggles and chuckles. For a moment they are not mothers and warriors and former slaves, they are just women enjoying the view on a nice day.

“Who has the best?” Laseema asks as the giggles die down. In unison, Bes and Parja announce Mereel as the winner.

“You could bounce a credit off of that ass.” Bes says, barely able to maintain a straight face. Jessa flushes as Laseema agrees. She really hadn’t looked but now that she allows herself to she had to admit it’s a glorious sight. They are all glorious. Stripped of armor and flight suits, of the black under armor tops they all still prefer from their days in active duty they are pristine examples of what a man could be physically.

“You could wash clothing on Levet’s abs.” Parja adds. Bes nods in agreement. And it goes like this through the various family members. Fi’s smile. Atin’s back. Corr’s thighs. Bardan’s eyes. Jessa is happy to sit back and smile, every now and again nodding as the Skirata men are ogled and rated.

“What about the Vau’s?” Bes asks after a few minutes. There’s silence. Jessa feels the prickle of irritation at the quiet until she looks up and realizes three sets of eyes are looking intently at her.

“So…” Parja asks slowly, “you're part of this game too you know.”

For a second she thinks she might just wave them off, say something about not feeling right saying *hose kind of things but Parja is right and though she’s loathe to admit it - she has been looking and not just since the armor and clothes started to get peeled off and piled neatly on the sidelines. She flashes back to this morning in the kitchen when she’d pushed out of the walk-in and seen the familiar gunmetal and yellow beskar’gam and how her wits had left her. His arms had felt so good around her, holding her close after she’d flung herself - consequences be damned - at him. Scorch is an easy answer.

“His hands.”

This seems to be an answer everyone is agreeable with. Laseema hums quietly and all eyes travel back to the field and watch the former commando of the moment. He offers a cheeky smile and wave before the ball is snapped and turns back.

“Opinions on Sev?” It’s Parja again distracting her from the game at hand. The Mandalorian woman has a sly grin on her face. What was she getting at? Of course, Jessa had opinions on Sev. The strong muscles of his arms bracketing her, his thick trunk she could lean back into… jessa takes a moment to slow the race of thoughts.

“Sev doesn’t count in this.” Bes speaks up. The tone of her voice, the dismissive way she says it raises Jessa’s hackles.

“Yes he does.”

Bes startles nearly as much as Jessa does at her own words. Of course Sev mattered. He mattered more to her than any of the Skiratas and just as much as Scorch. “Best shoulders of the bunch.” She adds primly after an awkward moment of silence.

Parja barks out a laugh and watches the next play, Sev has his arms wrapped around Atin, pulling him down to the ground and pinning him face down with an elbow pressed into his back, “ok, she’s got a point.”

Laseema nods while Bes remains red faced and quiet.

The children, Kad, Conn, and Burr offer a distraction from the awkwardness that hangs in the air. The younger two head immediately for their mother while Kad seems to take a moment contemplating which aunt suits his current needs best. Jessa yawns. She hadn’t slept well the night before with strangers just a door away and it was beginning to take a toll.

It’s all Kad needs to see. He is a headstrong child when the mood hits and he was not one to be denied. Having learned both of these things Jessa doesn’t argue as he crawls into her lap.

“Sleepy?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the question but as she’d discovered even if a child was tired they’d be loath to admit it. Kad turns his face into her shoulder and Jessa wraps her arms around him. Bes and Parja excuse themselves. Bes steers the boys toward the yaim for naps of their own and Parja makes an excuse about bringing a tray of food out for the ‘old barves’ to pick at.

Laseema lounges back onto her elbows, eyes following the game that seems to be wrapping up. Jessa isn’t entirely familiar with the rules, but it doesn’t seem like the players are really following any set guideline. More or less they’re playing for the enjoyment of it. Jessa visually checks in on her boys. Always close to one another, Scorch talks rapidly to Sev as he points to Ordo and then to Corr on the other team. Sev nods in acknowledgement at whatever plan has been made.

Kad nuzzles in closer to her chest and Jessa eases the pair of them onto the blanket to lie down. The sun is warm and it leaves her feeling drowsy and content. Kad lays his head on her arm as she rolls to watch the game. His little fingers poke and prod until her other arm is draped over him to his liking.

In the air the song birds flit, taking a break from their southerly migration. The sounds of good natured ribbing and laughing comes from the game field before her and the group of buir’e behind her.

“So which would you choose?” The question catches her off guard. “Sev or Scorch?”

Jessa doesn't speak. Her eyes follow the pair as they play. Never far apart. Working together without words as if they were of the same mind. She can’t imagine one without the other or how it must have been for both before Sev had been brought back from Kasshyk.

The thought of making a choice has never occurred to her because the thought of anything more than the simple life she’s settled into is a seed barely sprouted. She frowns at the thought. If they both wanted to pursue something then of course she’d have to choose one versus the other but It doesn’t feel right, like separating a set. How would they react? Would they be competitive? Would they fight against one another? Would it tear the family apart? She’d rather be alone the rest of her days than see her fragile new family torn apart by her choice.

“Neither.”

Laseema cocks her head questioningly. Her lek curl and uncurl in a soothing manner Jessa can pick up from the corner of her eye.

“I couldn’t choose. I wouldn’t.”

———-

During a mission, when exertion and strain and sweat were a thing, Sev didn’t mind the thin sheen of perspiration that accumulated on his skin. He ignored the beads of it at his temples and the way rivulets of it ran down his back. Afterwards though, it was different. Since Kasshyk a lot of things had been different. Things he’d never tolerated - the loud way his brother chewed for example - became almost reassuring, while things that had never concerned him - like the coating of sticky sour sweat - were intolerable.

A couple of the guys - Levet, Corr, and Mereel - join him on his journey to the locker room after the match. He’d give it to Skirata, this place, their home, had all the bells and whistles. Everything he could want was here. Had he not just needed a quick wash down in the locker room he could have slipped off to the smaller bathroom shared between the twin bedrooms in his clan’s wing of the yaim. But no, the blood pumping and friendly competition had him feeling nostalgic. Locker room it was.

It takes him only a few minutes longer than the others to clean off, an extra few seconds of scrubbing with the mild soap that had followed them since their days on Kamino, while the others joked and laughed. Feeling clean made his bones settle, made them feel less like they wanted to rattle out of his skin.

Levet says something and Sev turns his attention. “Hmm?”

Levet has a towel slung low around his hips while he uses another to scrub at his damp hair. “You gotta excuse the boys. About earlier,” he says.

Sev thinks to tell him he didn’t have to do a kriffing thing, but this was Commander Tactful and even after his service to the GAR had ended, he was still trying to do what he’d always been good at.

Sev doesn’t need defusing. He wasn’t about to go off. He just needed the Yayax boys to understand that the Princess was a hands off, eyes to yourself affair. Levet tosses him a towel as Sev turns the water off. He catches it with one hand and bringings it directly to his face to rub residual droplets from his eyes.

Without the gloves Sev can hear the servos in Corr’s prosthetics whir as the younger clone dries himself off. “Sev is a little protective over his vod’ika,” the former trooper cracks.

That wasn’t quite what he was trying to make clear. He huffs into the towel. Is that really what it looked like to everyone?

“It’s understandable,” Levet agrees, “hear she’s been through a lot. There’s a lot of people who would take advantage of that; my boys aren’t them though.”

Mereel, who’s been quietly pulling clothes back on makes a discontent sound. “Seems to me if someone wanted to court the dal, they ought to make their intentions known the old fashioned way. You know, put it on public record.”

Sev can feel the Null ARC’s eyes on him. “You planning on making that move?” There’s a chill in the questions he doesn’t make any attempt to hide.

With the exception of the slow drip of water from the recently cut off shower heads, the room has gone quiet. Mereel stops where he stands, shirt halfway up his arms but not yet over his head. It’s an interesting time to realize Scorch isn't here to have his back if the sudden tension in the air ignites into something more.

“Are you?” It’s Corr’s smart mouth, he’s got a smile sliding across his face. “Because I was thinking I might stand a chance.”

In unison Sev and Mereel throw damp towels in his direction. He catches one easily with one prosthetic hand, the second - a half second behind - barely misses smacking him wetly in the face.

“Come on, really? Do you see this?” Corr turns to Levet motioning up and down his body with durasteel digits. “I could pull a woman like that.”

Levet, always level-headed and prudent doesn’t even favor him with a grin, “No, vod’ika you couldn’t.”

Mereel gives Corr a hearty pat on the back. “We can’t all be me. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable woman out there for you.”

“Gee thanks, vod.” He makes to sound irritated but Sev can see the smile lines forming at the corners of his eyes. The little bastard was still good diffusing a situation and he’s both irritated and grateful. He didn’t need a three on one but he also had no further intel on what was going on in the karking Null ARCs head.

Sev layers a fresh set of blacks under loose pants and a tunic. He collects his armor in a neat stack. No one else was putting there’s back on and he was going to take the opportunity to try without for once. He knew he’d likely wind up back in it before supper. Armor wasn’t just physical, it was mental as well.

He tries to tell himself that it’s got nothing to do with Jessa, but really it has everything to do with her. And what happened earlier. He follows Levet, Mereel, and Corr from the locker room but when they hang a right to head back outside he takes a sharp left toward his buir’s karyai. He waves off Levet’s curious over the shoulder glance. The others don’t attempt to wait or question.

It should probably sting, but it doesn’t. The Skiratas and Bralors were family but Sev only cared about two- three other people (and a mangy strill) when it came right down to it. Those were the opinions that mattered.

And he had karked up one of them. Or so he’d been told.

He heads straight toward the room he and Scorch shared, directly to the small desk that went mostly unused now that they’d set up shop in the armory. Jessa’s knife - his knife - his buir’s knife sat gleaming on the top, nearly sparkling against the dull grain of the wood, as innocuous as a honed blade of its caliber could be.

Maybe he should have gotten the story from her first. Maybe, as Scorch had suggested afterwards, it would be better to handle these things behind closed doors in the future. The thing is he hadn’t, and it wouldn’t have changed that he was going to take it back.

He was fracking impressed by the sheer gett’se it must have taken to stand up to a fully armored Mandalorian staring her down. She’d had fire in her eyes. It was like he could see her trying to decide what nice cozy intercostal space she could seat the knife in. For aruteii, it was fekking nehutyc. That still hadn’t meant the blade she was going to shank him with was hers.

It had always been too big. He knew the first time she’d held it to his throat - he swallows hard at the memory - that it didn’t fit well in her far smaller hands. He knew it was ungainly for her and awkward to wield but he hadn’t ever really meant for her to be in a position to use it. It was supposed to be a security blanket, something to pacify a terrified girl, but like everything else she’d surprised him. It wasn’t just standing toe to toe with him this morning. Wal’buir had told him what had happened in Keldabe. Before Mird had gotten help she’d been about to take on two fully trained Imperial troopers. Jessa was a smart girl and to Sev that meant she knew what she was getting into and not getting out of. The thought both set his teeth on edge and his kad to stiffening.

“Fekking Skirata.” Like his buir, Sev found it easy to blame the feisty old merc for everyday problems.

He grasps the handle and flips it in his grip. It was still a solid weapon, just not what she needed. He could fix that. Next time there was a blade between them she wouldn’t look at him like he’d done her wrong. Sev didn’t mind the anger and murder in her eyes but he didn’t ever want to see that look of betrayal again. He didn’t want to ever feel like it was her against him unless her life was on the line. He slips the blade into the sheath at his hip. It wiggles more than he liked but he didn’t intend on having it on him for long.

As he’s leaving, he catches a splash of forest green tucked under the covers of Scorch’s bed. He grabs the scarf without a second thought and folds it carefully as he heads out.

——

Parja’s in the kitchen. It’s nice because he hadn’t wanted to go looking. He hadn’t wanted to need to find an excuse to pull her away from the other women, or worse, her gossipy riduur. He knows the Mandalorian woman enough that if he could convince her it was important she’d keep things quiet. Fi, not so much.

She’s stacking a tray high with tidbits of cheese, meat, tiny pickled peppers, and bits of bread. His stomach growls and Parja’s head shoots to him.

“I’m gonna put a kriffing bell on you,” she curses quietly, narrowing her eyes. He didn’t have time for her ire, nor did he have the patience.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“After that stunt you pulled today? You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself.”

He tries to keep his lips from pulling back, he really does. He succeeds partly. Parja is undeterred by the silent snarl.

“You know she’s been a mess with the pair of you chakaar gone? You know she hasn’t been sleeping since Keldabe? You wouldn't know, because the first thing she gets out of you, Sev Vau, is nothing but trouble.” She’s pissed. He knows this because she’s gotten close and is using her index finger to jab an exclamation on each of her final words dead center of his chest. He probably deserves it.

“Can you do something for her then?” he questions. Parja takes a step back, sizes him up, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“What is it?”

Sev pulls the knife from its spot at his hip. Parja’s wide eyes move from the blade to its handler and back. He spins it in his hand, presenting the handle like one would a peace offering.

“I need you to make this work for her. I thought maybe - maybe you could make it into two.”

Parja takes the offered weapon. She studies it with the eye of a craftsperson and the tactical experience of a Mandalorian. Sev waits patiently. Somewhere outside someone is laughing obscenely loud, Mij Gilamar by the sound of it. “So-“

“You know I’m no armorer, no blade smith either?”

“You’re family and I trust you.” He waits again. She’s searching his face. After a moment she nods slowly. He hopes she’s found what she needed.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t tempt me.” There’s a hint of humor pulling at the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Say again.” Obviously he was commissioning her to make a set of blades. It really couldn’t be much more straightforward than that-

Parja rolls her eyes, humor once again gone. “Are you and Scorch courting her together or separately? And don’t think you can put me off or lie to me, Sev Vau.”

By Fett, he hated that word - courting - it sounded so… he just didn’t like it. He really didn’t want to have to go all the way to Keldabe to have this done, so he swallows down any apprehension and nods. “Together.”

“Good. Now let me get a few ideas from you.”

——

She sleeps light and dreamless in the spill of warm sunshine. Kad nestles close to her as she shelters his little body with her own, his small hands cling to the front of her tunic. She can hear the occasional voice of someone passing nearby, of footsteps approaching stopping and then continuing on. Months ago she’d have stiffened and been on edge. She’d never have freely offered her back to danger, but now it was different. Everything was.

Kad stirs as a familiar pair of boots scuffs closer.

“Ba’vodu…

“Udessi…” Jessa soothes, quietly trying to coax the child into just a few more minutes of blissful cuddles, “I’m right here.”

He wiggles in her grip, a giggle rising up. “Ba’vodu! Boom!”

Jessa rolls to her back bringing Kad with her. He’s off her chest and half stumbling to still-shirtless Scorch’s waiting arms.

“Boom! Boom!”

Scorch hoists the giggling child into the air. Kad squeals with delight as he’s easily caught. “Yeah, verd’ika, there’ll be some big ones tonight. I promise.”

It’s an ‘oh’ moment, a split second where Jessa realizes as many times as she’s seen the other men around her toting the kids around it’s never looked so attractive as Scorch doing it.

“Ba’vodu Mesh’la!” Kad whines and Jessa cocks her head as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s heard.

“I taught him that. You can thank me later.”

It takes a moment to realize what he’s said, and when her brain finally plays catch-up she feels her cheeks flush.

“I eat food now?” Kad is unconcerned with what is playing out as he pokes at his uncle until the bounty hunter has had enough and pretends to drop him to the ground. He catches him an inch before he hits the ground and Kad acts like it is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Another family member, Bardan, calls his name and he’s off like a shot the second his feet hit the ground without a single look back. It must be nice to be a child without a worry in the world.

Jessa pushes up, resting back on her outstretched hands. She can count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen him out of beskar, the amount of times in this state of undress less than that.

The matte grey of his pauldrons had only served to highlight how broad his shoulders truly were, and now without the added cover she can get a good impression of the muscles that moved down from those shoulders. Biceps and forearms defined by his work lead to the hands she’d mentioned earlier. He flexes his arm. Jessa’s eyes snap back to his. Caught. Scorch grins from ear to ear.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Jessa nods. The sun still has her feeling drowsy and content. “Wasn’t ready to be done with it,” she admits. He drops down to his knees and then flops lazily at her side.

“I’m not Kad, but I’ll offer myself up as a cuddle buddy.” He holds one arm up, inviting her into his personal space like the night she’d had a nightmare and he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.

A soft breeze blows cool against her exposed skin. Goosebumps rise to the surface. Jessa slides next to Scorch. It’s out of necessity, she tells herself. He’s a human furnace, suiting his name, and she was going to use that to enjoy the last bit of time she would get outside sans layer upon layer of clothing. His arm braces behind her back as she leans into his side.

“You fit good there,” he notes. Jessa says nothing. She feels good this close to him. The light scent of sweat and salt radiates from him.

“You stink,” she murmurs quietly.

“You like my stink,” he hums back. He doesn’t exactly smell bad and she doesn’t argue. She’d spent too many nights with her arms around one of his pillows, buried under his covers to deny what he said.

“What were you fighting about with Yover?” She watches him from the corner of her eye. Scorch looks out across the field, seemingly staring into nothing. There’s a boyish smirk plastered across his face that makes Jessa think all sorts of things, not least of which is what his lips might feel like if he kissed her again.

“Nothing you need worry about.”

Thankfully he’s good at chasing away her soft, reckless thought. It’s not the answer she wants and he laughs at her irritated growl. “If you keep making that sound how are people supposed to tell you and Sev’ika apart?”

She can think of a few ways, but keeps them to herself. She rolls away, putting a shred of distance between them so she can turn to look at him fully. She missed him - them - so much. Scorch opens his mouth as if to say something and then shuts it suddenly. It’s not like him. With a puff of air past his lips he flips onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Given the opportunity, Jessa seizes it. She lets her eyes rove now that he’s not watching. From his arms to his broad chest and tapered waist there is a light smattering of scars. None are particularly deep with the exception of a few to his forearms.

“I can feel you staring.” Brown eyes peek out from under his arm. “Something you like, Mesh’la?”

“You’ve got a lot of scars,” she notes, gaze not wavering from its exploration. Now that she’s begun she can’t find it in her to stop.

“Ah yes, my marks of personality.”

“Marks of…” She offers him a confused expression.

“Buir- Sarge back then, always said scars gave you personality. He helped shape our inherent charm. Have you seen Atin’s face? Vod has tons of personality.”

“Where did this scar come from?” Jessa reaches out and touches the slick looking slice on his flank. Goosebumps rise up under her fingers. A quick glance at his face shows nothing amiss.

“Sev has this great trick for slotting Trandoshans he picked up from the old man”

“But why do you have a scar?” She’s sure that her mind shouldn’t go where his words were leading it. Sev would never- well at least not Scorch, she thinks realistically.

“Spicy dreams.”

Jessa jerks. Scorch’s arm tightens around her. Sev blocks the sun from shining on the pair as he towers over the two.

“Aww Sev, was that a joke? I knew ya had it in ya.” Scorch sits up and Jessa follows, crossing her legs neatly as she does. Scorch eyes her. There must be something akin to the growing horror she was feeling painting her face because he tries to explain more.

“Sev doesn’t like to be woken from his beauty sleep.” As if to accentuate it, the man in question makes a lazy wave at his face as if to say ‘see’?

“I need every bit I can get.”

Undeterred by the look she is wearing, Scorch encourages her to stand up, giddiness and glee coloring his tone like a small child excited to show off a prized rock or funny shaped stick it had found.

“Show her!” Scorch nudges her gently until she has no choice but to stand with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a great trick.”

Sev rolls his eyes back but motions for her to stand in front of him. She’s still angry about this morning but her sense of curiosity is getting the better of her. Sev hesitates as if he knows he’s still not in her good graces but it lasts only a second before he pulls her close and spins her around. It’s a familiar position, the line of his body pressed against her back. They’ve done this once before and she flushes at the thought now of how vulnerable she’d been in the locker room and how Sev had taken care of her then.

“You ever deal with a lizard?” Sev’s voice is gruff. Jessa nods. Transdoshans made excellent slavers. Two had held her still while a fat fingered Gamorrean had branded her after she’d been bought. She presses back into Sev, seeking more of the heat he transferred without the layer of beskar between them.

“They got these… what do you call them?” He looks to Scorch.

“Plastron?”

“Like the belly of a lily turtle?” Jessa asks. “Mother kept them in the water garden.” A strange look crosses Scorch’s face as he nods at her explanation.

“Yeah, Princess, like a turtle,” Sev murmurs, reminding her how close he was. “So they’ve got these plastron across their bellies and the rest of their bodies have these thick scales that do a damn good job of blocking most sharp pointy things.” Sev’s hand comes to rest at her waist just back slightly, his thumb pressing into a spot above where she knew her kidney to sit. “Except right here, where the plastron and scales connect there is a soft spot.”

To emphasize the point, Sev presses his first two fingers into her flesh. Jessa winces and he lightens his touch enough to take the edge of the discomfort off.

“The trick Buir taught us is you’ve got to adjust your grip accordingly so when you get the chance-“ his fingers press forward, sliding along her side til they reach her belly, “you can spill their guts.”

The way he lets them sit there for a minute before he steps away makes her tummy flutter. She’s glad for the separation. Jessa folds herself faintly back into a seated position.

Curious eyes watch from afar. Jessa feels them acutely and glances past Sev. Ordo Skirata is not being covert. He holds eye contact for a second before moving on, one of his young sons clinging to his leg.

“Wonder what Ord’ika is up to?” Scorch says, more to himself than anyone.

“Better be minding his own damn business.” Sev’s voice is a reassuring growl as he flanks her other side.

——-

His belly is full of spicy skewered nerf and deliciously fatty bits of shatual. Sev has never been one to search for a buzz in the bottom of a bottle like some of his vode (Scorch included), but a bottle of sweet Ne’tra gal dangles lazily between his fingers. The abnormal heat from earlier in the day has bled away to an appropriately crisp autumn evening as the sun set an hour before. It felt good.

He alternates between staring up to the cloudless expanse of sky and taking the occasional pull from the bottle in his hand, allowing himself a moment or two to enjoy the sweet barley and hops of traditionally brewed ale. Unfettered by the light pollution of the larger Mandalorian cities to the south, the stars shine like gemstones above. It wouldn’t last long. Fireworks were coming next - Scorch had already kriffed off with Corr for last minute preparations. They’d be lucky if Doc wasn’t working on a new prosthetic by morning with those two at work.

After fireworks the kids would be shuffled off to bed and - so he was told - the real party would start. It sounded like a big excuse to drink too much and do something incredibly stupid by an open flame. Probably would be fun. He still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. He’d been through a few celebrations since being brought to Kyrimorut, but this was his first fall and Scorch had been doing his best for months to talk it up and try to get Sev as excited as he was.

He’d seen lots of things blow up in his life. From one side of the shabla galaxy to the other, he’d seen enough to consider himself an expert of sorts.

Jessa lies in the grass by his side. Her eyes are fixed on the sky above. She’s been quiet since she laid down next to him. It was wrong. She usually said something. Anything. Most times he’d have no fault in the silence, but all around them people were talking and laughing and they were just there. Being weird. Somehow he thinks it’s probably residual from this morning. He sighs heavily. Blue eyes flash out of the corner but then focus back above.

“You looking at the stars?”

Jessa makes a soft hum of agreement.

“Kriff…” he curses lowly, turning toward her, “You still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad.” And Palpatine was a well loved public figure.

“You were,” he asserts, “You looked like you were ready to slot me”

“I would never.” She finally turns, fixing him with eyes that affirm his previous assertion.

“But you wanted to.”

She sighs, rolling onto her side and tucking an arm under her head. In the growing dark with her hair spilling around her she is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally willing to admit that attraction.

“Too much beskar,” she states bluntly, “Besides, I’d miss you if you were dead.” There’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Sev feels a strange pull in his chest somewhere between asphyxiation and taking a barely controlled ascent down a fast line.

Her smile drops away. “Sev?”

“Yeah Princess?”

“If you ever do something like that again? In front of the rest of the family? I will do it.”

The bark of laughter that leaves him has heads turning all around them. Curious and concerned eyes fall on the pair. Jessa’s eyes narrow. That feeling in his chest intensifies. She looks like a pissed off loth cat waiting to attack. Fekking gorgeous.

“Roger that, Princess. I won’t even fight back.”

She softens visibly, pushing herself into a seated position only a hairs breadth away from him.

“Good.”

With that settled, the pair turn their eyes back up to the darkening sky. The silence doesn’t feel weird anymore with the issue between them blasted to dust.

Sev feels content in the moment.

The sound of the first mortar being released into the air catches his attention. The light of the small explosion comes just a few beats after in the form of neon red that lights the sky. It’s impressive. More follow at regular intervals, different colors and sizes, sounds and shapes. Like burning flowers in the night sky they flash to life only to die a few moments later. The smell of explosives rolls like a fog from the launch point to the onlookers.

Sev glances around and finds the small children staring transfixed as the fireworks erupt into life, their tiny mouths cracked in o’s of delight. He tries to remember the first time he ever saw anything explode or heard a bomb and he can’t quite place how old he must have been. He’d been fascinated, but not nearly as much as Scorch had. Scorch had been obsessed. No one loved blowing something up as much as his vod.

The next mortar explodes with all the force of a sonic boom and Sev finally notices Jessa’s stiff posture next to him, the way she twitches when each firework ignites.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The words rush out of her mouth in a way that lets him know she’s not.

“You don’t need to be scared.”

Her head swings around. “I’m not-“ A pair of twin explosions follow each other in rapid succession and she nearly comes out of her skin. Sev remembers watching another squad when they were just tiny cadets, the way they had all crowded in around a vod who obviously was having issues with the sounds, pressing in until their pod mate had calmed.

“Come here.” He motions to the spot in front of him. Jessa shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she lies again.

Sev huffs. Did she not see that he knew? Stubborn dal. He should let her stew in her own fear. That would teach her, but then he’d have to listen to a lecture from Scorch and he hated when he got lectured. Before the next can go off he leans over, closing the paltry distance between them and loops his arm around her waist. She squeaks as he pulls her effortlessly into his lap, spreading his legs and tucking her into the spot between them. She struggles for a second. He notices, not for the first time, the she never curses, not in Mando’a nor in Basic. He thinks if she did she would be right now. She squirms against him and he regrets not putting armor back on.

“Stop wiggling,” he grunts into her ear. She stills and Sev takes the opportunity to wind an arm around her and pull her tight against him. Sev doesn’t see the eyes that have followed them or the way other members of the homestead lean in to whisper to one another because Jessa is relaxing back into his grip, melding with him and his brain isn’t sure what to do. The next volley of decorative ordinance pop and she barely twitches. The purple shimmer of rhydonium paints her features in a soft glow as it fizzles out of existence.

He holds her tighter and by the round after she doesn’t move at all. Her head rocks back and rests against his shoulder. He can feel the heat of her all along the front of his body and his mind travels to places it hasn’t in ages.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she murmurs.

“If you say you were fine, I swear-“

“They kept the barracks near whatever tunnel we were working in at that time,” she begins.

Sev nods. This was a Kappa Black thing. He should have known.

“We worked in shifts. You had to try to sleep while they were blowing through the asteroid around you.”

It made sense. If you’d seen any amount of osik the galaxy had to offer you weren’t likely to leave it all behind.

“Odds are you're not gonna get blown up here.”

“How do you shut it off so easily?” She twists, glancing up at him.

“Turn off what?”

“The fear.”

Sev stops. He’s never really dwelled on it. “I don’t turn it off. I focus it. Fear is a tool.” He recites an early lesson. “It’s a blade. You either use it on your quarry or you use it on yourself. Never been much on killing myself.”

Jessa goes quiet, thoughtful. She wiggles in closer as reds and greens and blues light up the sky in front of her.

“Cold?” It seems like the right thing to say. Sev had seen a holomovie once on a stakeout that reminded him of this. He’d had to read lips because he’d been perched in a Corrie window watching it from his scope in a building two over. He got the gist of it though. Romantic osik that made him want to gag on the warra nuts he’d smuggled along. Now though it doesn’t feel nearly as unrealistic as he’d thought back then.

“Maybe a little.”

From the cargo pocket of his tac pants Sev retrieves her scarf, the same one she’d left on Scorch’s bed earlier. It’s not easy to unfurl it one handed, but he manages and drapes it over the front of them. She makes a soft sound, a sigh of contentment as she burrows under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

——

If the flames of the bonfire grow any higher, Walon is sure they’ll be able to see it from Keldabe. Not that you could tell any of the celebrating adiike that. No, drums and Bes’bev and various stringed instruments of unknown origin had been pulled out and now not only was their fire and drink but also music to go with it all.

Rav is beating out a rhythm on her bucket next to Atin, using a hide covered drum of his own making. The rest of the Bralors take turns on the winds and strings. Fi chortles out a bawdy song about a twi’lek dancer and the battalion of troopers that had loved her. Walon can make out the words “seduced by her lekku of love” before uproarious laughter drowns him out. Off to the side, Laseema rubs tears from her eyes barely able to control her laughter.

“They don’t work like that vod!” She manages to get out between giggles.

“Atin?” Someone asks. The former Commando in question offers a toothy grin but says nothing. Walon rolls his eyes. He’d like to think his adiike were better behaved, but Scorch is taking shots of ti’haar with Corr in celebration of a pyrotechnic display gone well. Sev, while not drinking like his vod is encouraging it.

“You gonna let a trooper get one up on you?”

Jessa is pressed shoulder to shoulder between the pair. Her cheeks are flushed with life and she looks happier than he’s ever seen as she fidgets with the thick braid of hair draped over her shoulder. Corr offers her a shot and she takes it like one of the Commandos. She barely flinches. Mandokarla indeed.

Even slightly inebriated himself, Walon can see Scorch’s keen gaze watch her like a mother nuna. Sev’s is more fixed on Corr. A pair of guard massiffs if he's ever seen them.

No, Walon didn’t need to worry about her overdoing it with Sev and Scorch present. Likely, he should be more concerned of their safety should they need to cut her off. The murderous look she’d given his sharpshooter this morning spoke volumes of the personality that was starting to bloom.

“Vau.” His musings are painfully disrupted by the shorter merc easing himself into a sitting position next to him.

“Skirata,” Walon greets.

“We need to talk about earlier.”

Like an obnoxious fly buzzing about, Walon tries to ignore him. Still, Kal’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his skull until, like a fly he cannot help but give him his full, irritated attention.

“You’re trying to ruin my Kyr’vhetine, aren’t you?”

Kal gives him a bemused smile that slips quickly into something more serious. Yes, he was going to ruin it.

Walon’s eyes drift to his children. The makeshift band has begun to play a song the is unmistakably Ryl. It’s heavy drum lead beat and accompanying strings lends itself for dance and Laseema throws her head back and laughs from her spot near Parja.

“Am I being called out?” She asks the group of musicians. There’s an uproarious cheer as she sets her drink down and pushes up off the makeshift log bench. “Fine then.”

Walon watches her bunch her tunic in her hand, tying the loose fabric just above her hip. Blue skin peeks out as she extends her hands at her sides and begins to dance.

Traditional Ryl dancing is almost impossible to look away from. The movements are fluid and driven by the rhythm of the music being played, steady drum beats with a mixture of plucked and strummed strings.

It’s not merely a dance but a delicate balancing act played between the musicians and the dancer. Laseema knows this game better than many he’s seen. Her hips shimmy and roll with the beat as she steps delicately about the circle of aliit. There’s cheers and hoots from the crowd and the smile that graces her face is radiant. Like so many others she had blossomed and truly begun to thrive in Kyrimorut. He was sure no small amount of that was in part to Atin. While he’d taken the Skirata name, Walon had quietly patted himself on the back for creating the man and survivor he was today.

“The auction…” Kal begins and Walon sighs deeply. From his spot at its Master’s foot, Mird glances up, tongue nearly too large for its mouth lolling out to the side. It’s warm by the fire but the strill is loathe to be anywhere Walon isn’t.

“The auction,” Walon agrees. The thought gives him a headache. A year ago he had just become reacquainted with the idea of having an ad and now here he was with three healthy, somewhat adjusted adiike. He was loathe to upset the newly formed balance, but he knew somewhere deep in his gut - as he didn’t trust his dead heart on such matters - that they needed to be part of whatever was set to happen. Each of the Cuy’val Dar sitting around the fire had trained multiple squads and so few were accounted for outside of those that had already been known to have marched on. If there were others they deserved a chance and their buir'e deserved a chance to give it to them.

Kal seems to understand he’s finally got his attention. When he speaks it’s not of someone trying to convince a friend in a fool's errand but instead a hardened mercenary beginning to plan for an op.

“We’ve got so little time to prepare. The lads will do fine but-“

Walon holds a hand up, “I know. I know.” His gaze travels over to how newest acquisition. Laseema is pulling the giggling girl to her feet while Scorch eggs her on. Sev watches with his hands on his knees. He appears relaxed, laconic, but Walon knows what lies beneath - always alert and on guard.

Laseema slows her movements, working her hips in a tight figure eight and Jessa imitates. It’s uncoordinated at first, but with each rotation she seems to sync into the music a little more, so Laseema shows her another step and then another. Parja joins the fray with absolutely no rhythm but shereshoy that cannot be argued with.

“You can’t deny that she’s our only option.”

“I never said I did.” Walon watches as Mereel enters the small fray of dancers and pulls Laseema close. Fi slides in and grabs his wife. He’s just as off rhythm as she, but they both seem oblivious to anything but one another. Jessa spins happily, the green scarf tied in a triangle at her hips twirls out like the layers of a skirt and Walon can imagine her being spun around a dance floor in another life. She’s happy and content and what is about to come could very well ruin that but she’d do it. He knew that in the same way he knew Scorch would spring to his feet the second one of Yayax squad attempted to move in her direction. Honestly, it’s astounding it takes as long as it does but after the correction earlier maybe it’s not too shocking. It’s Cov this time who gets two steps to near before Scorch is sliding in between the Yayax squad leader and the girl. Jessa only seems to see Scorch, beaming up at him as he slips in behind her.

Walon raises a brow. He hadn’t expected either of his lads to move like that.

“Sev and Scorch are not going to like this, I take?”

Walon chuckles. “I don’t imagine, but they also know their place and what an op like this means. They can give their hormones a backseat long enough to get the job done.”

“That’s going to be a mess when they work that out between them.”

From her spot pressed against Scorch’s chest Jessa finds Sev. He’s nursing another drink, only the second of the night by Walon’s assessment. She reaches out, palm up and curling her finger. Sev raises a brow and shakes his head, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Jessa sticks out her lower lip and pouts. Someone shouts about making her the filling in a commando sandwich. Kal chokes, coughing violently into his drink.

Walon’s never known Sev to willingly do something commonly perceived as fun and dancing… he imagined it would be a cold day on the plains before he’d see his Ad’ika do that.

“I don’t doubt they’ll work it out in a way all their own.”

“That’s what I worry about.”

From the corner of his eyes, Walon studies the Skirata patriarch. He considered (if only to himself) him a friend for a few years now - since Mygeeto at very least - but there was a time when he’d have happily put his fist through the other man’s orbital bone if given the chance. Sometimes he still said things that made Walon’s old arthritic knuckles ache in anticipation.

“They’re not yours to worry on. I feel you have enough without adding my adiike to your plate.”

Kal hums and Walon knows this will not be the last time he will have this conversation. The song being played ends as he’s thinking of the inevitable irritation of having to repeat himself.

“Jessa.” The girl turns her head at her buir’s sharp call of her name. Scorch’s hands tense where they rest at her hips, but she shimmies out of the bounty hunter's grip.

“Yes, buir?” The musicians are mumbling amongst themselves about what to play next.

“Naberrie Waltz.”

Confusion flitz across her face, settling along with the crinkles between her eyes.

Walon is undeterred. “Do you remember it?” Jessa nods once and Walon rises to his weary feet. Scorch hover protectively behind her. With an irritated flick of the wrist Walon shoos him away.

“Show me the waltz.”

“But the music isn’t-“

“I’m aware, Ad’ika. I’m sure your parents spent large sums of money teaching you how to do things that didn’t always fit what you wanted at the time. Has their money gone to waste?”

A bemused look crosses her face as Walon offers a hand. It’s been a long time since he’s waltzed. Far longer than his new daughter has probably been alive but the steps come back as if it was just yesterday as a light hand on her waist guides her in a slow turn. He knows eyes are on them. He can see the flash of mirth in the eyes of the other Cuy’val Dar but that is none of his concern. Jessa’s spine is straight, her head, carriage uniformly perfect. Even though the song is all wrong she doesn’t miss a step. She slipped into it as easily as he feared she would. She could do what Kal was asking, maybe not perfect but she could figure out how to play the part. He glances down and catches her wondering eyes.

“Very good, Ad’ika. Very good.”

She smiles at the praise and allows him to continue to spin her around. Sev and Scorch’s looming shadows stand at the edge of the circle. Those two weren’t going to like what was to come one bit.

———

aglist: @bylightofdawn​ @leias-left-hair-bun​ @skdubbs​ @passionofthesith​ @haloangel391​ @fractiouskat @peacelandbread​ @clonewarslover55​ @cherry-cokes-world​ @nelba​ @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie

Mando’a translation

Kyr’vhetine Tuur- harvest day (one of four Mando holidays @crimson and I dreamed up)

Mando’ade- sons and daughters of Mandalore

Adiike-children

Riddur- spouse

Din’kartay: sit-rep, or sharing of information/planning

Gett’se- balls

Nehutyc- gutsy (also feisty)

[emily-the-fae]

Sound of a Heartbeat

Part 3. Back to Business

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Here I am, back with a new chapter. I have absolutely no betas, so this is what I get after editing the text myself.

Pairing: Dracula x OC

Warnings: absolutley none

What Shari did not expect, was to feel cold - in fact, there was now extremely unpleasant cold at her back and something burning warm and soft at her side, the juxtaposition making her shiver and move her shoulders. As soon as she did so, sharp pain shot through the left side of her neck, causing her to flinch and groan, straightening her shoulders carefully as not to evoke another shot of pain. Why-why-why does this have to sting so much all over again? Shari could hear some sounds around her - noises like obscured quiet dialogue, the voices were still undetectable, but she already had a hint of who they might belong to. Next there was a raspy sound of someone's - or something's - quick breathing right next to her ear. Light struck her eyes through closed eyelids, causing her to turn her head, wincing. There was a sound of footsteps coming closer. Some other noise, getting louder by second, until she finally heard...

- Shari! - as soon as she opened her eyes, she saw Sypha leaning above her, anxious face watching her reaction carefully, strands of red hair falling in front of her eyes.

Shari bolted upwards, nearly bumping into the speaker and instantly regretting it as sharp pain shot through her body, she bent forward, almost folding in half, then straightened up again, taking deep breaths. Alright, easy. This is what surviving feels like. She was going to live for now. Shari looked around: she was laying on the snowy forest floor next to a campfire, her body covered with a warm cape; the wood opening was lit in dim daylight, Sypha was crouching on the ground next to her, Adrian and Trevor staring at her from across the campfire; Rodo crawled closer, putting his muzzle onto her lap and wagging his short tail happily, his nose poking her belly.

She caressed his big furry head absentmindedly. Shari did not understand how the hell she managed to make it back, especially considering her health condition. She was expecting anything, but home sweet home among the three friends on the other side of the water.

Something moved on the edge of her peripheral vision, between the trunks of the trees and Shari had to turn her shoulders fully in order to keep her neck as immobile as possible, as she tried to look in the direction of the movement. She saw a shadowy figure of the ghost stare at her, hovering immobile close to the edge of the trees. Oh, Lisa Tepes is not going to leave her alone now. She knew Shari would survive, somehow the damned woman just knew it. Now the healer could be sure the ghost will stick to her for some time and continue the scheme of "go and save the world". A very pleasant beginning of the day.

- Lord, it's so good that you're back. We seriously thought that we might lose you, - Sypha threw her arms around Shari's neck, for the time being taking the healer's thoughts off her new acquaintance. - I tried all I could, you know, magic and other stuff... Adrian almost suggested turning you, - Shari snorted. Like hell he would have.

- How long was I...?

- Three days, - Sypha's face was probably as pale as her own. The poor girl must have done all she was capable of to keep Shari alive.

- To be honest, I am quite surprised that my father didn't finish what he started, but I am anyway relieved, that you are well, - Adrian walked up to her and petted her shoulder. - I'm so sorry we weren't there to help you straight away.

- It's fine, Adrian, we couldn't have predicted that he would pay us a visit. It's not anybody's fault, - no it is. My own and yours too, it was a dumb idea to leave the most battle-unprepared person alone. Shari shut the voice in her head and smiled weakly.

Trevor just nodded from across the fire, listening to their exchange; he watched the three of them, his gaze from time to time drifting back to Shari, or rather to the reddened patch on her neck. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if hesitant to speak, then finally spilled it out:

- How did he attack you? How did he find us? Did he speak? – the hunter started throwing questions at her and Shari got a strong feeling of being interrogated.

- I-I don't know, - Shari almost lied, throwing a cautious glance at Lisa. - He just, sort of, appeared and attacked me that's mostly it.

- He probably watched us. She was alone, so he decided to weaken us by removing the one left vulnerable, - Adrian finished, lowering himself on the ground next to the healer. Shari didn't want to respond, dropping herself to her improvised bed in exhaustion.

- You must be more or less right. That night is a bit foggy in my memory, really, - she huffed.

- He has a nasty habit of putting his victims under hypnosis, so your condition is quite - I almost said normal - quite to be expected I dare say, - Adrian mumbled matter-of-factedly, his palm coming up to caress her head and brush away a few stray strands of hair from her face. Shari felt her stomach turn in fear at the word "victims", she breathed out heavily. Silence followed.

- Guys, seriously, I feel drained... - Shari stretched as well as she could; Sypha snorted at her involuntary pun. - Can I please just rest for a while?

- Of course. Take your time and gain some strength. You'll need it soon, - Adrian spoke before anyone could respond. He stretched out his hand to take her palm in his for a moment, capturing her attention. - You deserve some rest. Thank you... For not dying on us. Really, - his tone began to be uncharacteristically serious, but as he ended his words in a chuckle, Shari could only breath out and smile warmly. Sypha just nodded and hurried to cover her once more with the large warm cape - the healer wasn't sure if it was Adrian's of Trevor's.

Shari lay back in peace for once, feeling Rodo's large warm form next to herself and letting the sounds of the forest wash over her. Maybe she could at least get some normal sleep.

***

When she woke up the next time, it was already deep in the night. The fire was burning low, Sypha and Trevor sleeping soundly on the ground around it, curled into two freezing balls, an empty bottle next to Trevor's hand - as per usual - and Adrian nowhere to be seen. Rodo purred in discontent, shaking his sleepy red eyed head, when Shari tried to sit up.

There was a shadow at the edge of the trees once again watching the small campsite intently; Shari could see it clearly its outline hiding behind the tree trunks. Lisa. The woman caught her gaze and beckoned her to come closer. Shari shook her head at first, but the woman only continued gesturing more aggressively; she hesitated for a while, contemplating whether she should just turn on her side and go back to sleep, then stood up at last almost against her own will, walking up to the ghost cautiously, ready for any unpleasant surprise. She felt like she was going to regret even this small decision.

Lisa, seeing her move, turned away and walked further into the tree shadows, leading the human away from the campfire; Shari could barely follow her transparent form, walking through the bushes careful not to make too much noise that could awaken her unaware companions. Rodo ran behind his human, smelling the air around him for any traces of life, his huge claws making him clumsy as he trotted through the bushes. At first Shari could barely see her way, cursing under her breath as she went until all of a sudden she found herself in an opening once more, a small free patch of ground formed around an old fallen tree, it's darkened trunk laying on the ground and clearing some space around it; Shari saw the ghost settle on top of the trunk as if sitting down on a bench, gesturing for the human to do the same. Shari walked closer and lowered herself next to the woman. It was silent for a few moments.

- Did you really have to do that? - Shari spoke up.

- Do what? - Lisa responded.

- Appear to me. Rush my decisions.

- I didn't. In fact, I tried to tell you to think it over, if you remember?

- Oh yes, you didn't intimidate me with the prospects of returning to Earth straight for a painful fight, - sarcasm it is.

- I needed you to be out here.

Silence once more.

- Why don't they see you? Adrian and others - you were there in the morning, but they didn't notice. Are you just a hallucination? In my head? I’m going insane, am I? - Shari asked. The ghost sighed in response, lowering her head.

- No, no. I believe, you... Crossed some border because of almost dying. You aren't supposed to be seeing me now, it never happened to me before... Maybe you are able to see the other dead too. Maybe it's just me because I tried to connect to you, - Lisa answered, unconfident, studying the girl's face. - I was never exactly an expert in the paranormal field.

- You raised a vampire son.

- That's different!

Pause.

- I'm still not going to go looking for Dracula, - Shari stated.

- You can go looking for his castle instead then, - Lisa was seemingly unworried about her decision.

- Looking for his castle?! Do you even hear yourself? How is that supposed to be "instead"? How.. Wait, why?

- Well, as you said, you want to hold onto your life - he has the answer to your sickness, your salvation - I know, I remember, I've been to his library - if you manage to find the castle, you will as well find the cure, - Lisa smiled knowingly at Shari's visible confusion. The healer wrinkled her nose, thinking. Now there was something to it – could be possible; a chance for longer survival, if the stories didn’t lie; besides Dracula is quite busy and Lisa had told her she watched over him. But still...

- Oh no, I'm not buying this. You're just telling this to me, because you want me to encounter him. He very obviously will be there and will certainly be not happy about a human intruder. I won't go, nope, - Shari replied.

- Don't you think it's the better option of not encountering him? - there was a smirk on the ghost's face now.

- Oh, yes, why would that be?

- He's following you four around, he said it himself, so he will definitely notice you are still alive and quite soon. But I do know he is not as often in his castle nowadays - so if you leave the others, in fact, you will have better chances of...

- Alright, alright, Lady Logic, I get it. What's in it for you then? Making me search the castle? Sounds all too good for me and nothing for you, as you place it. What do you have in mind?- Shari stared at the ghost suspiciously, waiting for the answer.

- His castle and all its movement is controlled only from the inside, I know it for sure. And maybe, just maybe, together we could find a way to reverse this war with minimum blood. If we find a way to stick the castle to one place, he will have to be more careful, because his safe place will grow more vulnerable. As for Adrian and your team out there – they wouldn’t be able to ambush him. Drawn in that condition they may have more time and necessity to… reconsider some of their tactics. Who says diplomacy should work without a little destructive help? You and I – together we can create the needed mess, - Lisa responded. This sounded almost like a rehearsed speech. - Magic and knowledge: if you help it may actually work out.

- And that's all? - Shari raised an eyebrow.

- Yes.

- Too simple.

- Only on speech, - Lisa tilted her head towards Shari. - Do we have a deal?

- I don't trust you, - Shari cut back. - You're nice and all, but I don't trust you, - she stood up from the tree trunk.

- You don't have to. But we need each other, you have to admit it, - the ghost responded with an amused smile. Shari really wanted to shut her ears and run away. This was no good. There was no way the ghost wasn't lying about Dracula deserting his castle; Adrian said he wouldn't... Though Adrian didn't expect him to be watching them either.

- Okay. Say I do trust you – for now. What do I do? How do I get away and to his castle without Adrian?

- Leave tomorrow. Tell them you need to go and settle some personal matter – or rest somewhere peaceful, that you know of a small village to rest in for a while. That you're sick and solving it - it's not far from the truth. You'll catch up with them in some time… possibly, - Lisa told it all as if she had planned the whole thing a long time ago, which unnerved Shari quite a lot.

- Will I though? - mistrust once again.

- Depends on you, - the ghost dissolved into thin air. - Remember, we both need each other.

[jordanlahey]

Devilish (1/?)

Pairing: the lost boys x demon!reader (there isn’t an exact romance pairing just yet.)

Summary: You heard that Max and his boys were killed by amateur hunters but you knew that wasn’t true. However there is now word that others are coming to claim their territory whether they are alive or not.

Word count: 1859

A/n: I’m no good at the summary cause i just had an idea and wanted to start writing so forgive me if it drags on a little longer than it’s supposed to but I have a general idea on what I’m wanting!

It's not long after the sun goes down that the monsters come out to play but not the monsters that your parents tell you about in stories like the big bad wolf or big foot. No, the ones that feed off human blood if you unfortunately catch their eye, the ones that cower in the dark during the day but they forget the other kind of monster that looks seductive to the eye with their lips dripping with sin ready for another taste, The monster that's as old as time itself, one that feeds off sins and the lust for souls of the poor and unfortunate. No one is ever warned about making deals with the devil, they don't believe in all that stuff but they'll believe in fairytales. Humans. Poor pathetic people.

You hadn't been to the surface in so long maybe around 86 years? You had heard that a certain coven of vampires have been eliminated but that was hardly likely, you tend hear a lot when you're down below. It was boring down there surprisingly, you all had a job to do you got the job of collecting souls but even then it takes 5 years or more for you to collect them. If you were lucky a certain demon would let you collect some souls on their behalf which is exactly why you are here anyway. Making your way through the boardwalk you can point out all they needy ones ready to make deals, you walk past a certain video store first not that you had any interest in buying or looking more likely the person who had owned it.

You strolled into the store looking around until you spotted who you were looking for. Max smiles at the customer as he bid them farewell, his smile dropped when he saw you walk to his counter.  "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"Oh don't be like that Maxy." You pouted and leaned against the counter "I'm here on business not for you yet." You smirked but he kept his stoic expression causing you to sigh. "I heard you and your boys were no longer...undead shall we say?"

"You should know that we can play a lot of mind tricks on people Y/n." Max narrowed his eyes, he was no fun.

"I thought as much, how are the Emerson's?" You could tell that comment struck a nerve, you knew after they whole fiasco that Lucy drove herself and her sons elsewhere. "but while I'm here I might as well warn you, others think you are dead and will try claim your territory." You picked up a lollipop from the bowl and unwrapped it, Max just looked at you unbothered. You really weren't getting much out of him. "Come on Max, why do you not like me anymore? Long ago you considered me a daughter to you. What changed?"

"You changed Y/n." You rolled your eyes, course you changed that's what happens when you giver in to your instincts. Even if you could change you still wouldn't be the same.

"You of all people should know what giving into temptation is like." With that you left, you weren't gonna argue with him, you had people to see, your night was already planned: find the ones who's time is up, go make more deals, have a little fun messing around. Very, very busy. Max will come around when he wants to know about he's coming to make Santa Carla theirs, you also wouldn't mind getting your hands a little dirty.

Motorbikes roared as they speed down the walk ways and people screeching to get out the way, the bikes came to a stop and off came the four boys. The night was young and so were they, beautiful as they come but deadly as they are. They were also on the prowl for a meal as well as for to cause chaos around the boardwalk, as per usual the boys would head to the carousel for the start of their long night, this time the Surfer Nazi's know to steer clear of the lost boys they won't be their target tonight. However, after they leave the ride they all catch sight of a girl they've never seen before leave the video store, she looked good enough to eat and the boys would be happy enough to pass her around.

You made your way through the crowds to the bar where a man sat all by his lonesome, he fidgeted nervously his this hands and kept taking long gulps of his drink. It was obvious that this was the man you were looking for, walking slowly towards the table you joined him and a smile played on your lips as you batted your eyelashes at him in a seductive manner.

"You must be her? I got told that it would be someone different." Oh, so they hand out memos now? How mundane, the man dabbed a tissue on his forehead a few times before taking one more long swig of this drink. "I have a favour to ask." You chuckled at him, who is this man? Does he not know basic deal rules?

"A favour? And what might that be?" You looked over at the bartender and you silently asked for a drink, the man before you fiddled with his tie before clearing his throat as he tried to muster u[ the courage to spit out whatever he wanted to ask. People rarely ask for second chances from a demon, the ones that know better and are ready to face the consequences of their actions. Humans get 5 years with whatever their deal was however, depending on said deal and how easily you can persuade the demon before you, you can be given more than 5 years but only on the day of the meeting and NEVER after the deal has been made.

"I.." Your drink arrived and you swirled the straw around the glass waiting to hear this favour, resting your head on the palm of your hand. You lift the drink to your lips before he blurts out what he wants "I would like to make another deal!" You almost choked on your drink, this guy actually asked you for a new deal? That's the favour? How rich.

"Tell me something, haven't you heard about the rule 'no wishing for more wishes' in the presence of a genie? This is the same thing you cant ask a demon for a new deal when your time is already up my friend." You smiled darkly at him, however he is brave enough to ask but it was the dumbest question in your opinion.

"Wait! I can get you more souls! Err...my wife's, a colleague, my brothers! Any that you want!" You rolled your eyes, humans really are cruel. They'll do anything to get what they want. Greedy, selfish bastards, you look forward to sending this one to Hell he'll go straight to the fourth circle. You get up to leave knowing he's going to follow you whether he wants to or not, probably best to head down the alleyway to avoid more mundane eyes for this. "Wait! Where are we going? I want 5 more years! I'm not ready to go just yet." When you reach the bottom of the alleyway you pin the poor man up against the wall, your face now showing the anger you held back.

"Who do you think you are demanding 5 more years!? You don't get to ask for more with no soul. You belong to me now, your soul is mine for eternity. You never made a Deal with the devil if you are not prepared to pay the price." With that you snapped your fingers and the man was no longer there, nothing but a small piece of glowing blue light that flowed into your body. That's what a human soul had looked like.

David and his boys had split up trying to look for the girl they had seen leaving the video store, they lost her in the crowd and she didn't have a scent or at least they didn't get close enough to get one from her. David was starting to get annoyed was gonna give up and find his brothers until Dwayne had sent him a telepathic message that he had found her heading into woods, David chuckled and met up with all of them by the bikes and off they went.

You knew you were being followed, they were going to catch up in no time so why not have a little fun? You started running, slow enough for them to still see you. You were taunting them making this a game of cat and mouse, now tonight was starting to get interesting they were Max's boys definitely but he didn't set them on you no no, they are hungry and you will be their meal for the night or so they thought. You take a sharp turn away from the dirt path to go further into the woods so that they pull have to abandon their bikes and go on foot or fly if they must, if this was going to be a game might as well make it as fair as possible. The boys do as you planned they go on foot running faster to the point they were already catching up, you could hear Paul;s taunts he was the closest behind you, now if you played this out right you could lose them just a little further.

The boys skid and come to a stop, you had vanished from their sights and they had lost your scent again, Marko and Paul growled in frustration while David and Dwayne were trying to figure out how you out ran them, now you knew about them but they knew nothing about you and that's what made it so fun. It you were still there with them watching them as they circled the spot you left them in, you planned to stay at watch them a little longer but you couldn't wait any longer.

"Yoo hoo up here boys." All them them turned to look at you siting on a tree branch. "Looking for me?" You smirked down at them.

"Hey pretty lady, why don't you come down here and do this the easy way." The glam rocker known as Paul called up to you, you thought about it for a moment and you know Paul would be the most fun one to play around with. You shrugged your shoulders and got off the brunch but as son as you got down David already had his hand around your throat and against the tree you were just in, it shocked you but you chuckled bitterly.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at." He sneered however he has a slight smirk on his face too.

"You must be David no doubt." You looked at the others "Marko, Dwayne and Paul." You pointed to the boys as you said their names.

"How do you know that?"

"I know everything." You reply.

[scaredyships]

Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. I

y’know what, it probably makes more sense to crosspost the entire chapters rather than just post links. :v So here we go! 

summary: You're used to your job as an infochant sponsored by the Bounty Hunters' Guild bringing you the occasional violent incident. But when a certain Mandalorian you've helped out before comes to you for help and accidentally brings his very dangerous problems along with him, it's all you can do to let yourself get dragged into it.

word count: 4.3k 

author’s notes: If other people are allowed to write reader-inserts where the reader character has specific qualities about them then I’m allowed to as well. :v This is going to be a big multi-part reader-insert fic following the show, starting almost immediately after Mando escapes with the Child from the Guild. With how much I’m churning out per part, it’s going to be a long fic. Slow burn, mutual pining, the works - however, no smut. No allusions to it either. I’m ace and this is my own personal indulgent work where Mando is also asexual to some degree, as is Reader. 

Reader is very mildly Force-sensitive, but doesn’t know it. The sensitivity manifests in them being able to sense the presence of people, impending danger, and being a little luckier than usual when it comes to anticipating oncoming attacks. They can also vaguely pick up on others that are Force-sensitive, but it comes off as a weird sense of familiarity. Grogu can tell what's going on, but there's no way for that to be communicated.

Part 1 (you are here) // ao3 link

---

It wasn’t every day that you’d get a Guild member coming through your doors. Granted, you’d get all sorts of customers as an informant, but Guild members tended to be the proud sort that would rather start their hunts from scratch and not bother trying to get help from anyone. Even if that help was in the form of extensive galactic maps and planetary inhabitants that held more detail than most databases - courtesy some archives from a long-established library somewhere on Coruscant - and would come in handy once they determined what direction they were going.

It was even less often that a Guild member would try to sneak in and take you by surprise, trying to keep the knowledge that they’d even been there hidden from anyone that may be watching. Or to try and intimidate information out of you for the fee of letting you live, if they were new to the bounty-hunting field and were preoccupied with maintaining the reputation of a mercenary. Those types annoyed you to no end.

Today seemed to be one of those days.

Without fail, you always got a strange niggling in the back of your mind when someone was around that shouldn’t be. You never could explain why it was that you could do that, but it came in handy and in turn took the visitors by surprise that you knew they were there. You liked to think that’s part of why you were able to maintain your reputation within the Guild as a preferred informant.

The strange sensation was there. But it was… different somehow. You stood from your desk and brought a hand to hover near your temple, focusing on it. No, this was stronger. Not just in the way that you felt when there was more than one person, either. It was stronger, and despite being so foreign, it had an almost familiar sense to it. You furrowed your brow, eyes darting aimlessly as you tried to process it.

You stepped out from behind your desk, the work you’d been doing double-checking and updating your own archives forgotten as you cautiously reached for a hold-out blaster you kept within hand’s reach. You could never be too careful with potential clientele.

There really weren’t many places in your “office building” to go from where you were. A hallway with a small set of stairs that led to your living space, and the front door. There was a back door to the living area and a few windows that would every so often have to have their grating replaced on, and if someone was feeling especially sneaky there was an air vent that dropped into the center of the hallway.

You turned your eyes towards the ceiling, where just above was the modest kitchen area. Whoever was setting off your stranger senses, was there, even though they weren’t making noise. You sighed quietly to yourself and padded your way towards the stairs and the doorframe that led to the area, blaster ready in your hand.

Rounding the corner slowly, face blank, you glanced up and watched for any shadows or other movement on the walls ahead of you. Still no sound - though you swear there was an almost sub-audial humming that wasn’t there before, the kind you’d expect from idle machinery. You hadn’t left anything on, you knew that much.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of some meathead bringing some convoluted contraption to interrogate you with. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Might as well get this over with.

“Hey, I know someone’s up there. Your sneaking isn’t going to work on me. State your business.”

You stepped up the stairs, blaster slightly raised, not trying to be silent anymore.

You barely made it to the top step when a pair of hands grabbed you, one slamming over your mouth and the other wrenching your arm just enough to make you drop your weapon, and you were bodily lifted and pinned against the wall just to the side of where you’d been entering the room. You pushed back instinctively, trying to wrench your arm free and thinking about how effective it would be to try and bite the glove-clad hand over your mouth—

“Y/N.”

The modulated hiss of your name burst through the fight-or-flight haze that had taken over, and with a jolt you registered the Beskar helmet in front of you. All your movements stopped as you stared, dumbfounded. There was no forgetting that “face”, no matter how long it had been since you last saw it.

To be truthful, even though you’d only met him a few times before, this Mandalorian was by far the most bearable of the Guild that came to you for information. To-the-point with what he needed, no awkward attempts at small-talk, and despite how blunt he was, surprisingly polite. It made those few encounters memorable and had you wishing for more in the future over other clients. Of course fate would have it be like this.

In all honesty, the physical closeness of the whole thing was throwing you for a loop and your mind was choosing now of all times to remind you of how touch-deprived you were, and bringing back to the surface those old vaguely fond feelings for this man that occasionally crossed your path. But you were still lucid enough not to let that be at the forefront of your mind.

You quirked your eyebrow at him as he carefully released your arm, motioning for you to stay quiet. You were just barely able to nod your head enough to indicate you understood. He slowly removed his hand from your face, moving as if he went too fast you’d spook like a trapped animal and lash out.

Something was very off if Mando of all people was sneaking around your place and trying to keep you quiet. He was the last person to care about what the rest of the Guild thought about what they saw him doing, he just cared about getting jobs done and doing so as efficiently as possible. You’d heard enough about his reputation to know that much.

This predicament all but confirmed the talk you’d heard around town that Mando had gone and broken some big rules, something about going back on a bounty after turning it in, and now had a price of his own on his head.

You swept your hands out to the sides in your most “what the hell” motion you could muster. You didn’t miss the very slight sag in Mando’s posture, like he had quietly sighed.

And that’s when you noticed it.

You stared at the egg-shaped pod floating in the middle of the room. The source of the humming you’d heard earlier, no doubt. What was he carting around that was so valuable he had to take it with him instead of leaving it on his ship?

The quiet noise that came from it made you start. It almost sounded like… something alive was inside.

You gave Mando a sidelong stare. The Beskar warrior tilted his head in your direction, just enough to indicate he was looking back at you.

“Mando… what did you do.”

You watched with baited breath as he approached the pod, standing close by its side as he keyed in something on his wrist panel to open it. You knew he was honorable, but some morbid part of your mind expected something viscerally upsetting to greet you.

What was actually inside, took you more by surprise than anything you could have imagined.

Sitting up amongst a pile of blankets and peering at you with curious dark eyes and perked oversized ears, was a baby unlike any you’d ever seen. You were pretty well-versed on the galaxy’s species, but this one escaped you entirely. And somehow, you still felt some kind of familiarity towards it. This was what was causing that other strange sensation earlier.

You blinked owlishly at it. It blinked back.

“...he’s just a kid.”

It was a low murmur, one you barely caught, but it struck you with the force of a thunderclap. The last two minutes alone had completely upturned any previous conceptions you may have had about the bounty hunter and what kind of person he was.

You did not understand why he was trusting you with this. At all. Yet here you were, and there he was.

You didn’t realize you’d been slowly moving towards the pod until you were arm’s length from the child and it chirped at you, reaching up with a curious hand in your direction, his eyes bright and watching you expectantly. Your hand drifted upwards and you cautiously let the little one grasp your finger, transfixed.

A familiar voice brought you back to reality.

“I need options for lying low, somewhere off the grid. You’re currently my best option for getting them.”

You turned your head to look at the Mandalorian. It was a simple enough request, but the circumstances being what they were, he was clearly pressed for time and needed to be as discreet as possible with his actions.

Glancing back at the child and carefully removing your hand from its grasp, you didn’t miss the way he seemed somewhat disappointed to no longer be the center of your attention. Sparing a glance at Mando, you motioned for him to follow you back to the office room, stopping momentarily to retrieve your blaster from the ground. He’d been there enough to know that there were no windows to be spied upon through in the lower area. With a quick tap to his wrist panel, he trudged carefully after you, the child’s pod drifting along close behind.

“How extensive are you hoping for?”

“As much as you can manage, as quickly as you can manage.”

You casually toggled on the earpiece you were never without - com link, translation device, and a handy little neural connection that let you activate and sift through your databanks hands-free. It was expensive, but very worth the investment. As soon as you entered the room, numerous holoscreens came to life around you and began pulling up planets based on various criteria - remoteness, levels of inhabitants, general hostility levels, neutrality with the New Republic, to name a few. Your eyes flitted between screens, highlighting the more promising results and using a slight swiping motion of your hand to dismiss the less promising ones.

“I’ve got a handful you can look at, if they’re good I can download more of the information about the actual planetary ongoings for you onto a data stick.”

You glance towards the bounty hunter when you see him nod his head, but notice he’s not paying as much attention to the actual selections as you anticipated. He seemed... on edge. More so than he did when you found yourself trying to fight him after he snuck into your home. The child, meanwhile, paid no attention at all to the armored man and was mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of screens and their data streams, ears swiveling and gaze darting about, the colorful reflections dancing across the black of his eyes.

You weren’t one to fawn over kids, but you had to admit, this one could be pretty cute.

On your way to pull a blank data stick from the storage space in your desk, you froze. All the hairs on your body stood on end and something at the base of the skull felt like it was writhing, yelling at you to get out, get far away, now.

“What’s wrong.”

You rounded on the Mandalorian faster than you’d done anything in your life, data stick falling from your grip and clattering to the ground so you could instead pull out your blaster for the second time that day. This actually seemed to startle him as he backed up a step. The screens around you shut down, plunging the room into darkness now that the only light source were the small lights on some of the machinery and the dim lamp on the desk. The child whimpered, shrinking down into the safety of his pod.

“We need to leave. Right now. No time. Someone’s coming and it’s not gonna be good.”

That was all he needed to hear. With a quick look at the child, he closed the pod and unholstered his own blaster, stance wary but leaving nothing to the imagination about how often he must’ve found himself in similar situations before this and come out the victor. If you weren’t so on edge and consumed with the need to get out, you might have been able to admire the sight before you of the broad-shouldered, Beskar-clad warrior.

Another time.

Noises of someone trying to force entry echoed from the upstairs area before you even made it a step past the doorway to the office. The front door was closer, and while it seemed counterintuitive to go there versus the back door, something told you you’d have more luck that way.

You snatched your outerwear and pouched belts from their hanging hook in the hall, knowing you’d have to be lying low yourself for at least a few days before you could consider coming back home. You were an infochant, you knew of all the possible places in the immediate area that would be good for that.

There was hardly any time to react when the front door was forced open, and an unruly-looking individual aimed a blaster down the hall and began firing. How you managed to twist to the side and avoid getting hit, you’ll never know. You’ll also never know how you managed to shoot off your stun blaster at the same time Mando fired his, so the man was not just stunned into unconsciousness but hit squarely in the stomach by the blaster fire. He fell to the ground with no sound other than the thunk of his weight against the floor. You blinked in slight shock at it, turning briefly to look at the equally-taken-by-surprise bounty hunter.

Hey, you’ll take it.

He nodded briskly and brushed past you to go out the door first, and he was barely through the frame before he was effortlessly dodging and striking out at two more assailants. You almost felt sorry for them as he knocked them to the ground, the Beskar armor rendering their attempts to strike back useless, and used some well-placed blaster shots to ensure they wouldn’t get back up.

Again, there was no time for you to properly be in awe. The intruders in the upper area were making their way towards where you were, and you had to keep moving. As soon as he signaled it was safe you dashed outside, slinging your belt over your shoulder and making sure the pod with the child inside was unmarked. You didn’t doubt Mando’s ability, but you felt like now that you were in this mess, if anything did happen, it would be on you.

And you just saw what he was capable of doing to anyone on his bad side.

None of you stopped until you were several buildings away, but within view of your place. You watched from your hiding place as at least three people moved from the two different entrances, some kicking at the corpses of their accomplices and motioning to the ones going back inside, their words too distant to be made out. You could see some items haphazardly being tossed through the door, mostly your equipment. Your personal databanks were heavily encrypted and couldn’t be accessed without your genetic signature, so they’d find they were useless sooner or later. At least you had backups in storage, so it wasn’t a total loss.

They had possibly realized this, as they left the equipment, and after what looked like a brief regrouping, the vandals parted to scour the streets for any sign of where you had went,

“I think I may have to follow you on your way out of the city. I can hole up somewhere  until things calm down-“

The explosion brought your thoughts to a grinding halt.

Fire, horrifically beautiful, burst through what was once your front door and upper windows as if they were made of foam and not the reinforced durasteel that all buildings in the area were required to have. Everything was simultaneously in slow motion but happening far too fast for you to truly register anything. It didn’t even feel like you were in your body anymore, it felt like you were looking through a pair of scopes from another planet. You could only stare dumbly at the smoke laced with embers as it billowed into the sky above.

“Hey, we need to move.”

A brief clap on your shoulder shocked you free of the spell. You glanced at the gloved hand, and up at its owner. There was no time to try and decipher any further meaning in Mando’s stance, if there was any sympathy expressed towards you in the hand that rested shortly on your shoulder. He motioned quickly with his head to follow him, and briskly moved to retreat from the area. With a small sigh, you hurried after him.

The three of you only stopped once you’d gone past the outskirts of the city, taking cover in an outcropping of rocks.

You didn’t need to tap into any chatter frequencies to know your name was now amongst those that you’d help bounty hunters track down.

Well… used to. That avenue was as burnt up as your home was now.

You scrubbed a hand over your face, eyes closed, now that you had a second to stop.

“If you need a ride, I can help.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked over your fingers at the man that just turned your life upside down. You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant about it, stance casual and visor pointed steadily in your direction, but you could feel a sense of guilt through the way he couldn’t stop shifting on his feet every so often and the way he couldn’t figure out where to settle his fingers on his belt. Must’ve been unusual for him to find himself in this kind of predicament.

“...sure. I don’t really have any other options right now.”

It was quiet on the Razor Crest. The Mandalorian sat at the helm, charting a route through hyperspace. The Child had been let out of his pod and was freely wandering the cramped cockpit, but you couldn’t be bothered to even idly watch what he may have been doing. All you could do was stare blankly at the space ahead of you.

It was gone. All of it.

Your archives you had meticulously compiled over the years. Your collection of plants from various systems that made living on the dusty rock you called home more bearable. Personal things you had held onto since your childhood, things that had been passed on to you from generations past. All that was left was what you’d managed to grab on your way out the door, thinking you’d have a chance to come back and resume life there in maybe a day or two.

And you were a fugitive now, too, for aiding Mando and fleeing rather than let yourself be captured and punished. You weren’t even able to get any of the information Mando had come to you for. You reached up and ran your fingers over your earpiece, the only thing left of your once-extensive setup. At least it was still useful.

Your brooding was interrupted by a small tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you met a pair of big, dark eyes peering up over your knees.

“Uh...hi?”

The Child cooed, tiny clawed hands gripping into the fabric, tilting his head like he expected something from you.

Kids were weird.

You hesitantly reached out, awkwardly patting his head and thinking to yourself how the combination of the grooves in his head and his thin, downy hair felt strange. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile. You glanced up at where Mando was sitting, to see that he had turned to watch you and the kid. You couldn’t see his eyes but his gaze still burned into you nonetheless.

You quickly turned back to the Child, letting him grab your hand and begin inspecting it thoroughly like it was an interesting toy.

This seemed like as good an opportunity as any to ask a question that had been bothering you.

“So, uh, Mando… why didn’t you try to hide the kid back at my place? You had no way to know I wouldn’t tell someone once you left.”

There really wasn’t any reason for him to trust you like that that you could come up with. The odd consult for planetary guides wasn’t nearly enough interaction for either of you to really say that you knew the other, beyond impressions. You sold information, you had no loyalty to one client over another, and knowing Mando had the kid with him at that very moment could have ended with you possibly… doing something rash, if you really wanted to. You wouldn’t. But he had no way of knowing that. Right?

There was a quiet modulated sigh from the bounty hunter. You changed looking in his direction again, and let out a small breath you’d been holding when you saw he wasn’t watching you anymore. Rather, he was watching the kid playing with your hand.

“...you’re trustworthy.”

And before you could try and get him to elaborate on what he meant, he turned back to the controls.

That wasn’t something you were expecting to hear.

You looked back at the Child, who had moved past your hand and was now pulling at the shiny silver latch tucked into your wrist piece that had your keycard attached to it. All that was left of your old residence. You pulled it out and let him take it, watching him pick at the etched grooves and writing with his claws.

You felt something akin to pain and grim amusement that something that used to be so important in your life, was now relegated to a baby toy. He could keep it, you didn’t need it anymore where you were headed.

...wait, where were you going?

“Mando, what system are we headed towards?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m getting as far as we can go first.”

Oh, good. You closed your eyes to suppress an eyeroll.

“Well, when we have some idea, let me know so I can figure out just what degree of screwed I am for starting over at everything.”

Silence from the pilot. It wasn’t his fault that he was followed, not his fault that the assailants had decided to ransack and then destroy your abode and livelihood. But you could still tell he carried the guilt as if it were. You hadn’t meant to sound like you blamed him, but your irritated tone of voice at the situation at hand could certainly be interpreted that way.

“Sorry, Mando, I just… don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

You sighed softly, absent-mindedly messing with your hands. The Child watched you, his ears drooping at your defeated tone.

“I could use an extra set of eyes around, with watching out for the kid.”

He was facing you again, this time turned in the pilot’s chair with an arm partly draped over the armrest. He was trying to look nonchalant again. The way he peered over his shoulder made you want to hide away, and you prayed he didn’t notice the flustered flush trying to creep its way onto your face.

The Child made a noise of agreement to Mando’s suggestion, looking enthusiastically from the armored man back to you, eyes bright and ears angled high in anticipation of you answering. Why this kid seemed to be so interested in you, you had no idea. You’d only just met him, why was he so excited? The only thing you could think of was that strange, familiar vibe he gave you, maybe it was a two-way thing?

Mando suggesting you stay around to help with the kid at all took you by surprise as well. You slowly turned your head to stare at him head-on. He didn’t exactly state he wanted a babysitter, but with your understanding of his profession you would probably be saddled with a lot of doing just that. You knew if anyone decided to try and come after you for information, if you were traveling with the Mandalorian you’d be safer than anywhere you might settle down. But at the same time, a nomadic lifestyle such as his relying on hunting down troublesome quarry was equally dangerous. But it wouldn’t just be you by your lonesome, and, hell, it could make for some interesting experiences.

“Are you being serious?”

All he had to do was incline his head. You looked back down at the kid, who seemed to be holding his breath waiting for an answer.

“...I don’t know the first thing about kids. But I’ll help out where I can, with him or anywhere else.”

The Child squealed, clutching the keycard he was still holding close. That earned a small chuckle from you.

You looked back up at the Mandalorian watching you both, not needing to see his face under his helmet to know he was also being affected by the small green child’s charm. He finally turned away, back to his controls, looking through the ship’s navigation to plot the next leg of whatever journey you were on.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.

[derireo]

night and day - misumi & hisoka

It was a bright, but chilly weekday at the Mankai Dorm. This meant that all of the students were already out of the house while the adults with jobs were probably going to come home later as per usual.

Izumi didn't have any meetings this morning so she was hoping to get some more hours of sleep in, but with Misumi startling her awake by hopping onto her bed, she feared that that was not going to happen.

"Izumi!" The young energetic man yowled happily as he bounded onto the bed then snuck under the sheets to cling onto the director who was still trying to snap out of her hazy stupor. A helpless whine blew out of Izumi's nostrils, but her arm still automatically lifted up to let Misumi cuddle against her side.

"Mornin', mornin'!" He laughed and curled his arms around her midriff, his nose just barely bumping into her jaw as he practically wrapped around her like an octopus.

Her body was suddenly engulfed by his surprisingly strong arms, and she couldn't help but sigh a little at the warmth. Even if she wasn't going to get any more time to rest, at least Misumi made up for it with his furnace like temperature.

She almost screamed in surprise when she felt something collapse into her lap next, but it was only Hisoka who was pouting and squinting due to the sunlight that was filtering in through the windows.

Her exasperated sigh was loud and clear, but she didn't do much to push away the two men who were now in her bed. Instead, she brushed her fingers through Misumi's hair as he bumbled on about something she couldn't understand while Hisoka buried his face into the plush blanket that separated him and the two.

Misumi and Hisoka are probably the only adults who don't have a job from what she can remember, but she never really thought about what they did to pass the time when everyone was out and about doing their own thing.

Now wide awake, Izumi stared up at her creamy white ceiling as she groomed the young men with her gentle, caressing fingers. Her mind was still a little sluggish as she tried to figure out what time it was, but the incessant cheek rubbing coming from Misumi kept distracting her.

"Did you two eat breakfast yet?" She questioned aloud. At this point, Misumi wasn't letting go of Izumi and effectively kept her from sitting up from the bed.

Hisoka hummed lazily from his spot near her stomach and squished his cheek against the fluffy blanket with a low sigh, giving no clear answer to the question asked.

"Yes! Omi-mi made me a triangle omelette!" Misumi crooned happily from where his face was pushed into the crook of the director's neck. Izumi thanked the gods above for blessing her with a man like Omi and ruffled Hisoka's hair next to get him to talk.

The silver haired man grumbled under his breath and raised his hand to catch Izumi's wrist between his fingers, the small curve of his lips indicating a frown was about to make its way onto his face. The woman huffed back at him and let her hand fall, palm warming the cool skin of Hisoka's cheek as her fingers lightly traced the arch of his eyebrow.

The comfort of her touch on his face nearly made Hisoka sigh, and with the selfish desire to keep her attention on him, he turned his head to press his lips to her palm as his hand tightened around her wrist, thumb brushing along the pulse that beat under her skin.

"Soufflé." He murmured softly, the word leaving his mouth a muffled mess. Izumi smiled knowingly despite the short answer and brushed the pad of her thumb down the bridge of Hisoka's nose as a reward, her touch affectionate as she tipped her chin to plant a morning kiss to Misumi's forehead.

"I still need to eat," Izumi patted their heads, "let me get up."

She was quickly pulled down by both men when she attempted to sit up in bed and she couldn't help but sigh. Figures.

Every member from each troupe always pulled her back down to her spot no matter where she was. Sakyo would make her sit beside him as he looked over bills, Tsumugi would hold onto her hand so they could tend to the same flowers together, and even Itaru wouldn't let her budge from his lap as he played on his computer.

Misumi and Hisoka were the worst from the bunch, with Banri and Masumi in tow. The two adults never let go of Izumi when it's just the three of them left in the dorm.

"I'll carry you!" Misumi volunteered right away while Hisoka grumbled. He didn't want to move.

"Do you know what Omi made me for breakfast?" The woman gazed at Misumi who was already scrambling off the bed when she did not yet accept his offer, and she groaned unhappily with Hisoka when a pair of strong arms started hauling her out of bed.

The fluffy haired man rolled onto his back and stretched with a yawn once Misumi managed to get Izumi bundled up in his arms. She held onto the energetic man's neck and sighed helplessly, it didn't seem like she was going to get much done today without Misumi or Hisoka hanging around.

"He left some karepan on the table," Hisoka managed to speak out, suddenly on his feet as he trailed behind Misumi who was practically jogging out of the director's bedroom towards the lounge, "said he made it for you."

"It's like Omi has all the time in the world to make these foods in a single morning." Izumi fawned over the absent university student with a dreamy sigh before she was gently set down on the sofa with Hisoka immediately taking his rightful place, his head plopping onto her lap as his legs dangled off of the side of the couch.

"It's still warm!" Misumi happily chirped from his spot in the kitchen, his steady hands holding the plate that held Izumi's breakfast.

Izumi gave him her thanks and beamed at Misumi a smile that competed with his own toothy grin. The sweet ball of energy plopped down on the couch beside her and held the plate in his lap after giving her a few napkins.

In one hand she held a crispy golden brown serving of karepan while the other ran its fingers through Hisoka's hair, earning the director a low purr.

She began to munch on her tasty breakfast while Misumi helped her flip through channels on the television for all of them to listen to. It seemed to Izumi that Misumi wasn't feeling very energetic and jumpy this day, and so she offered him her food despite it not being the shape he would've liked. To her surprise, the young man opened up his mouth and took a bite from the fried bread and hummed happily.

The quiet crunch of the crispy bread being eaten made Izumi hungrier and so she continued to eat, listening to the low rumble from the television as birds began to chirp outside the window. Hisoka lazily mumbled something under his breath and then yawned, stretching his legs while his arms were still tightly crossed over the other as he napped.

"Did you sleep well, Misumi?" Izumi had asked curiously when the lavender haired triangle hunter stayed silent as she ate. When she turned her head all of a sudden to look at him, Misumi jumped. His smile was almost automatic and he wiggled his shoulders playfully to reassure Izumi's squinting gaze that he was alright.

"I did!" He nodded. "I just really wanted to keep you company today."

He flashed her a grin that showed off his one sharp canine and it immediately made her relax back into the sofa with a sigh. Misumi leaned his head on her shoulder with a sigh of his own when she went back to eating and pouted instead, kicking his feet a little as he handed her the last karepan.

"You were very busy this week. Hisoka and I missed you lots." He murmured, to which Hisoka, in his sleep, mumbled in agreement.

The sad lilt to his voice was enough for Izumi's heart to squeeze with guilt. She had been very busy this week, with loads of folders with paperwork she had to go over. There was also the new script that Tsuzuru had written for the Winter Troupe that she had to read through and edit which kept her in her room more often than not.

She only showed her face when she had to do groceries or go to work and most of the time ate all of her meals in her room so that she could multitask there with no distractions.

Sure, there'd be the occasional visit from Muku or Taichi for help with homework, Homare asking to recite his poems to her, and Sakyo to remind her to take care of herself when she was holed up in her room for too long, but she managed to finish all of her work in time. She didn't think that her absence would affect Hisoka and Misumi that much considering their hobbies didn't exactly involve her most of the time.

"I'm sorry, Sumi." The director shook her head, disappointed in herself. Misumi only responded with a light hum blowing out from his nostrils before setting the empty plate on the coffee table to comfortably bury his face into the crook of her neck, his arms curling around her waist as Hisoka grumbled at all of the movement the two were making.

"We can do fun things today if you'd like?" She said through a mouthful of karepan. The offer was quickly shot down by the shake of Misumi's head and she pursed his lips in thought. She thought of doing one of those triangle puzzles Azuma had brought him one day and the colouring books he left under the coffee table, but Misumi beat her to it.

"I just want to cuddle." He yawned, his breath against her neck sending goosebumps along her skin. "Just like this until you have to go back to work."

She hummed softly as she finished her breakfast, leaning her head against Misumi's.

"Let's go back to my bed then. It's more comfortable," she coaxed, blowing away the few strands of hair that stuck to her face, "plus, Sakyo will scold us if he comes home and sees the three of us like this."

At the utterance of 'Sakyo', Hisoka's body rolled off of Izumi to quickly walk in the direction of her bedroom. It wasn't that he was scared of the man, but he hated listening to him nag whenever there was nothing to exactly be upset about. He was just saving his ears the boredom and pain.

With the disappearance of Hisoka, both Misumi and Izumi looked at each other with wide eyes before bursting out into laughter, and while Izumi was still giggling to herself, Misumi had managed to lift her up into his arms again. Her surprised yelp was drowned out by Misumi's joyful yowling back, and he quickly ran to follow Hisoka to her bedroom, the director squealing in fear at how fast they were going.

Sakyo somehow still found something to complain about when he walked into her bedroom hours later, the trio sleeping peacefully in her bed.

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

Sehun was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the pull, overwhelmed by his circumstances, and most of all, overwhelmed by you. He’d sworn that he would just ignore it for now, but that was proving to be impossible. Each time he came close, he was consumed by your scent, egged on by it to just give and taste you, drink you in until he was finally satisfied. But he couldn’t. He was still holding back. Still resistant to the idea of being tied to someone forever. There was nothing wrong with you. Hell, he was even beginning to think that you were nearly perfect for him. However, the idea of being mated… it didn’t scare him necessarily, but he couldn’t give in to it. Not yet. 

There was no answer as to why. It was simply part of being a wolf, something that he’d known would happen eventually. But he still held back. Even as he came so close to falling apart. 

The garage had been the first time that Sehun had almost lost the grip on his wolf he’d worked so hard on to control. Talking to you - hearing your voice - was something that he enjoyed more than he’d expected. Then you mentioned seeing a white wolf in your vision and his heart began to fight to be free from its cage. Before he knew it, his muscles were pushing him up to his feet and eliminating the space between the two of you. It was only when he could feel your breath and body heat against his skin that he came back to his senses. He pulled away and went about his business like it had never occurred in the first place. A scoff left your lips, but Sehun didn’t even flinch. He’d once again regained the upper hand on his own actions and that was all that mattered. 

However, that upperhand was slowly crumbling away again. For the past few months, whenever a group made up of mates and wolves had mentioned going to town or grabbing something to eat, Sehun had declined, preferring not to be in the middle of that kind of atmosphere. When Dana and Kyungsoo had stopped by Kris’ garage where he was helping out for the day, they’d wanted to invite Sehun along with them. He was ready to say no once again. Until Dana got a text and said out loud that you and Harper were to be joining as well. The word “yes” was out of Sehun’s mouth before he could even think it over. 

Keeping an attitude of disinterest - as per his usual method of keeping control - Sehun was both relieved and irritated when you weren’t sitting in his direct eyeline at the restaurant. The empty seat across the table taunted him, mocked him. His eyes drifted back and forth between the chair and you on the end. Occasionally, your eyes would meet and Sehun would feel his heart rate rise. You quickly looked away, the focus on the chips and salsa in front of you a bit too obvious, a bit too forced. When Dana’s friend Mina finally showed up, things took a turn that he hadn’t expected. Certainly one he didn’t want. 

All the flirtation and attention was making Sehun uncomfortable. Mina didn’t seem to pick up on the lack of response and that grated on Sehun’s nerves. He was starting to wish he’d stayed back at the shop. Only the glass of water spilling all over her lap seemed to stop her attempts at securing a date from him. It was relief, one that was making him consider an escape before the food would arrive. 

While everyone else fussed over Mina’s wet lap, Sehun looked to you, wanting to know if he could sense how you felt about the whole thing. As soon as he met your eyes, he knew. How you were able to do something like that he only just learned a few minutes ago. To be honest, he was impressed. The fact that his mate could do something like that….

He shook his head. You weren’t entirely his mate, not completely. The pull was there, that couldn’t be argued. But you weren’t his. Not in that sense, at least. Not on the level that he could call you his. Should he- 

Sehun picked up a handful of dead leaves and threw them at the river to stop that thought before it could finish. The leaves landed softly on the water’s surface and slowly drifted along with the current. A few, too full of holes, filled up with water, causing the leaves to be pulled down into the river where they were caught on the rocks resting at the bottom. Dirt stuck to his palms and clung to the space underneath his fingernails. For several minutes, he stared at the black specs that covered his hand. A painful ache was developing behind his eyes for how hard he was furrowing his brows. But the tension didn’t ease up. He had too much on his mind. 

The sounds of the crunching forest floor as you ran back to the house were still echoing in his ears. He wanted to go after, apologize for making you leave in the first place. Maybe even tell you the truth. He wondered how you would react when he finally told you - and, yes, it was a matter of “when” not if. The rope that he was holding onto was unraveling. Soon he would fall. The only question left was this: would you be waiting for him at the bottom or would he land on the concrete, broken and bruised?

**

You were back in the living room, staring at nothing, bored once again. The forest was no longer an option to you since you knew your feet would probably go searching for Sehun. You wanted to give him a piece of your mind, but you had a feeling that the words wouldn’t come out in quite that way. Groaning, you fell back onto the couch, a wish to have something to occupy your mind. At this point, you would even accept a new vision just to have something to do. You’d given up trying to put together the ones you’d already received. They were simply fragments that would never fit together in their current state. 

“Hey.”

Blinking, you sat up to see who’d joined your lonely existence. Harper stood off to the side, arms crossed over her chest. 

She certainly looked the part of someone who had spent years training, learning to kill creatures of the supernatural kind. The sleeves of her gray-green bomber jacket were pushed up to her elbows, exposing tiny scars on her otherwise perfect skin, and her tight pants looked like they had enough give to let her run or jump or perform any other movements that might be necessary. From her posture to her stance, she gave off an air that whispered the kind of confidence that didn’t need to be constantly shoved in anyone’s face. It was there, end of story. 

“Hey,” you greeted back with a quiet voice. 

She pointed to the open space next to you on the couch. “Mind if I sit there?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

With a soft nod, Harper sat next you, pulling her feet up and under her. She didn’t say anything for a while, her eyes wandering around the living room. You tried to find something to say. It was uncomfortable, the air suffocating you. It would be rude to just get up and walk out after she’d asked to sit with you so escape wasn’t exactly an option. Besides, you didn’t mind Harper, in fact you liked her from the small time you’d spent with her. It was just the awkwardness hanging between you.  

“Can I ask you something?” Harper finally spoke up. Once again, you picked at your cubicles, fairly certain of what she wanted to know. But you nodded anyway. “Why did you make the glass tip over?”

The phrasing of the question took you by surprise. You looked at Harper with wide eyes. Over and over, you opened your mouth just to close it again in an instance. 

“It wasn’t that hard to put together,” Harper chuckled. “But you don’t have to worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

It wasn’t, really, since Sehun knew as well, but you had a small amount of faith that he wasn’t going to say anything to anyone. “I didn’t mean to do it. Things like that just sort of... happen.” You didn’t really want to go into detail about your powers and your life for the second time that day. It was exhausting to explain and the others didn’t give you the same open feeling that Sehun did. “I was just annoyed, so....” You mimed the glass tipping over. 

Harper made a face. “Yeah, Mina was kind of… a lot. It was a nice change of pace after that happened.”

You laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure how those two are friends. Dana is so sweet.”

“Maybe there’s something there that we don’t see?” you offered up. You weren’t sure why you were giving Mina a defense, but out it came anyway. Maybe it was because you were used to others judging you so quickly. 

“True,” Harper agreed with a nod. “Then again, we all have different sides to us, don’t we?”

“Some of us more than others,” you agreed. Taking a deep breath, you took a risk. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How do you survive here?” You wanted to slap your own forehead for how you phrased it. Too blunt, too forward. 

“It’s hard,” she admitted. “Some still don’t trust me. But having people on your side helps.”

“Like Luhan?”

Harper smiled. It softened everything about her face, making the hunter melt away and bringing the loving mate to the surface. “Yes, like Luhan. But Hae In and Lottie have helped, too. Friends are just as important.”

“So, basically, you’re saying make friends?” It made sense. Only having one person to rely on when you felt so alone was draining. And Soomi was often off doing her own research with Junmyeon and Kita. She couldn’t be by your side twenty-four-seven and you certainly didn’t want that either. 

“If you want one.” 

The offer was right there on the table. And you were eager to take it. 

At the smile broadening across your face, Harper jumped up from the couch. “Come on,” she urged. “I don’t think you spent enough time in town today. Luhan’s working tonight and I think we can score a few drinks. What do you say?”

What did you say? Yes. Yes, yes, yes! It sounded exactly like the kind of night you needed. A night spent not thinking about Sehun or your powers or whatever the hell was supposed to be coming for you or the pack was surely an answer to your prayer. 

Pushing yourself up from the couch, you said, “Let’s go.”

Harper threw an arm around your shoulders and the two of you walked out of that house as if you’d been friends for years. Part of you thought for a second that you should tell Soomi where you were going, but you decided not to. You were with Harper so you would be more than fine. 

**

When you came back from the bar it was about two in the morning. Luhan had driven the two of you home since neither you nor Harper were in any condition to drive. 

Soomi was furious. Luhan had texted the others almost as soon as you arrived at the bar so they knew where you were, but that didn’t mean she was okay with your decision to leave without saying something to her first. She lectured behind you all the way up the stairs. You were sleepy thanks to the drinks you and Harper had bonded over and really just wanted to go to bed. Hardly any of her words were actively storing in your mind. Too much was going on in there to really focus on her, anyway. Down in the living room, Sehun had been leaning up against the wall, frowning at you in a disapproving manner. What did he care what you did with your own time?

Thankfully, your tipsy brain didn’t allow you to think about this since almost as soon as you hit the bed, you were out. But it wasn’t a peaceful rest. 

You were back in the forest that you’ve visited before in your previous visions. The trees that surrounded you were all too familiar even if the clearing that you stood in wasn’t. A pale hand gently gripped your shoulder, urging you on. You weren’t sure how you could tell what the person behind you was trying to make you do, but you did. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the wisps of blonde strands blowing in the wind. You didn’t turn around to see the face that the hair and the hand belonged to. Instead, your focus was honed in on the fallen logs and trees that were scattered around the clearing. 

The hand squeezed your shoulder in a way to signal to you. You raised your arm, your own hand stretched out, fingers taunt and stiff. 

“Think of hate,” the voice behind you commanded. “Think of your pain.”

You obeyed. You could feel the ache in your chest rising up as if it were real, happening to you in that moment. Your eyes swelled with tears as you remembered all the times that you were ostracized, judged, ridiculed. All of that manifested itself in your powers. You could feel the surge building up in your hand, begging to be released. 

“Good,” came the whisper. “Now let it go. You are so full of potential. Don’t hold back and see what you can do.”

The wood in front of you burst into flames. They weren’t tiny flickers or small, dancing fires dotted here and there. They were the kind that roared dangerously, on the verge of raging out of control. You could feel the heat even though you thought you were a safe distance away. Beads of sweat grew on your face. They slid down your cheeks and dripped from your jaw to land on your shirt and exposed collarbone. You flinched back as little sparks of ash jumped out from the glowing logs, rising into the air before dying out. 

Laughing erupted behind you. It was maniacal, like from a madwoman who’d spent years in an asylum and had finally broken free. 

“(y/n)!”

You jumped forward in your bed, pulled from the dream by the new voice crying out for you. That was when you saw what you had done. 

Fire surrounded your bed, trapping you within its circle. It grew in ferocity. Inching in closer and closer, the flames licked at the blanket that covered your legs and the frame that held up the mattress. Soomi stood on the other side of the room, terrified. Your own panic was rising. What had you done?

Crash! 

The door to the room slammed open to reveal Sehun, a look of horror on his face as he took in the sight that he’d discovered. You tried to call out to him, but the smoke coated your throat, allowing you to do nothing besides cough to try and keep breathing. The fire was well over four feet high now. You had no chance of escape as they continued to grow. 

Something in Sehun snapped into action. He ran to the other bed, ripping off the blanket before running back over to you. With the blanket held out in front of him, he jumped and wrapped you in the blanket as he tackled you over the flames and down to the floor. As soon as you were out of danger, he turned back around and smothered the fire with the blanket as quickly as he could. 

More pack members arrived. They crowded the doorway with dropped jaws and wide eyes. Junmyeon and Kris pushed through them with buckets of water, extinguishing the fire for good. 

In heavy breaths, Kris straightened up and looked around the room before his eyes settled on you down on the floor. “What the hell just happened?”

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

If It Wasn't for the Nights || Alain and Kaden

TIMING: Not long after Knowing Me, Knowing You LOCTION: Cemetery PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Alain and Kaden meet up for some slay therapy

Alain was not ready to be alone with his thoughts right now, or be caught staring blankly into the distance as he tried to make sense of his life, and so, on this lovely summer night, the slayer was not waiting for spawns to show, but actively looking for them, trusting his hunter senses to lead the way. There were not many ways to find flederprey, but so far, only stray spawns were to be found. Not exactly the toughest opponents, but they managed to keep him busy, and that was enough. Still, as the feeling of having undead around him dimmed out, he found himself once again alone with his thoughts, hearing the things she said to him. He also remembered Kaden’s warnings, and how he had ignored those. Minutes passed, and Alain was starting to regret accepting to see his friend.

Hunting vampires was far from Kaden’s specialty, but he was certainly not inept. And if a fellow hunter asked for help, he’d never say no. Especially not a friend. “Hey,” he called out to the slayer who was sitting there, sullen and sulking. Kaden went to make a quip, tease or jostle him, but something felt off. Something. Right. He knew damn well what was off. What he didn’t know was how to deal with it. Feelings weren’t his forte. “Didn’t know what we were looking for so I brought just about everything.” He had his shotgun on his back, as always, even if it wasn’t the most useful for the undead, it made him feel better, there was holy water in flasks with him, a few stakes, his usual roster of knives. “You want to talk about it or you want to start slaying?”

His regret dissipated as he watched Kaden approach. It had been a while, and he was probably to blame for that. Working on making relationships work was obviously not his strongest suit. Alain couldn’t help his smile as his friend explained that he came prepared. This was no surprise. The beast hunter was not one to fuck around, and it must have been why they got along. Their argument hadn’t been really pretty, but Kaden’s opinion mattered, which was why he had not told him yet to fuck off, no matter how much he wanted to sometimes. Still he wondered if he should have told him about Evelyn. She was the kind of person Kaden hunted after all. One could hope that with time, worry would fade, and that so would feelings. “Mmh?” Lost in his thoughts, he only realized Kaden was speaking to him as he heard his last word. “I don’t know if this is the right place for a conversation,” rubbing at the back of his neck, he stood still for a moment before he nodded. “Let’s do… that.” He sighed, still feeling heavy, “Flederprey is what we are looking for. They usually can be found near spawns, but so far, I haven’t found anything but the latter,” which was not exactly hard, in this town. “I’ve already tried this area,” he motioned to the tombstones dressed on the left, behind him. Clearly, they still had a good portion to scan. “They’re pretty easy to kill,” he explained, “not technically undead, but if there’s a lot of them, I should be able to tell they’re here before we see them.”

Kaden was far from a relationship expert and honestly, still a little shocked by how long his current one had lasted. So getting straight to the slaying was probably a better idea. Even if he was pretty sure he’d have to pry it out of Alain eventually. As much as he didn’t do feelings, if being friends with Bea and Morgan had taught him anything it was that sometimes that talking crap helped a little. But first, “flederprey, huh?” He took his shotgun off his back and got it loaded and ready to go. “Sounds like it’s time for target practice.” The smile he offered Alain felt like a shit attempt at acting like everything was alright. “Lead the way,” he said, gesturing for Alain to start tracking using his slayer senses. For a bit, he followed along in a spot of silence. Should he say something about Evelyn? No, probably not. Let him know that he supported his friend? Nah, he was showing that, didn’t need to say it. Maybe he should mention the shit that went down at the cabin? Maybe. Could be a decent distraction. “So. Fun story. Nadia tried to kill us at that lakehouse the other weekend.”

Well, this was a relief. Alain was concerned for a second that this was going to turn into a therapy session. He did not need it. He did not want to talk about it. If he had not needed to drown his sorrow in alcohol, then it probably meant that he was okay, right? Sure, he still felt like he had a ball in his chest when he thought of Evelyn, but that was only natural. It would pass, he was sure of that. Those things just took time. Besides, it only had been a couple weeks. His radar went on and off as they wandered through the lanes. It would take a bit of roaming around to actually find the nest, but he had good hopes that they would find it, and help save a lot of people tonight. Of course, much like usual, people would never know, but that was fine. Being useful was enough reward. Lost in his thoughts, what Kaden said didn’t immediately bring a reaction from the slayer. Frowning, he looked as if he was solving a complicated equation for a second. “Wait what? She tried to kill who? You and Regan? Is Regan okay?” His brows furrowed and he turned around, a baffled expression on his face. “What happened? Is she… was she possessed?” Again? If Alain had noticed a change in Nadia’s behavior, he wouldn’t have guessed that this had happened to her again, assuming that this was what happened.

“Oh I’m fine. No complications with my stab wound, thanks for checking,” Kaden said, sarcastic edge to his voice. “Yeah she’s fine. Physically at least. Clearly I survived. But it was bad.” He sighed remembering that night. The rain, the confusion, that basement, the betrayal. And his confessions afterwards. Probably not a good time to tell his friend his confession of hunting went a bit better than his. “Nadia’s possessed, yeah. Very. Same bitch from six years ago. And it’s--” The words caught in his throat. There wasn’t a lot of hope for her right now. That didn’t matter. “It’ll be alright. We’re going to fix it. I’ll make sure. I mean, I know Regan would too. If she, uh, you know.” Understood what was really going on. “I mean, I don’t know how yet, there’s apparently no fuckin exorcists in to--” His paused to listen. There was something in the distance. Sounds. Screeching. Flapping of wings. Kaden held his hand up to pause them both so he could find the direction of the sound. He was about to point when the sounds got louder. Much louder. And then it hit him. Literally. Talons swooped by his head and Kaden ducked. A few  of them must have broken away from the pack. “Putain!” he shouted and started firing his gun at the fuckers, hoping to get a piece of either Shit they were small. This was going to be a challenge. “Rest must be nearby!”

“You’re standing in front of me, come on.” Alain held out his hand, palm up, obviously not having any of the attitude Kaden was giving him. “I’m glad you both are okay,” he smiled apologetically. Whatever had happened must have been terrible, because hunters were not the kind to complain for nothing. “I’m…” Well, he certainly had no word to describe how this felt like. Nadia was one of the kindest people he knew, and he wondered for how long this had been going on. He spoke to her a lot after all. “How is that possible? I thought they got that ghost out of her,” he didn’t know enough about ghosts to understand everything, and so there were things that flew over his head. “There’s not one exorcist in town? Really?” The last part dropped into a whisper. As per usual, the sound of the gun made him flinch. He was not used to working with those, and there was a chance he would never get used to those. “Rest most definitely is not far,” he confirmed, and they seemed to have been drawn by the noise, a few spawns following behind. “Et bien, mon salaud,” his brows furrowed. The weight of his sword adjusted in his hand as he gripped firmly on the handle. The swarm of flederpreys flew around the two hunters, claws and fangs out. It was unlikely that they would walk out without scratches on their face and arms. The good thing was, unorganized creatures like those that just ran headfirst into you were easier to kill as they didn’t know better than to stay away from his arm reach.

The flederprey were coming faster than Kaden could unload bullets. They were a swarm alright. And they brought friends. A few straggling spawn came with them. Good target practice as his dad used to say. And Oscar still did. It was still a bit surreal that Oscar was in White Crest. Not right now, Langley, concentrate. “I got the ground, you get the air,” he told Alain. His gun was going to be all but useless on the small bat like creatures. The spawn he stood a chance with. Before he could so much as reach for a stake, a flurry of talons flew down, dangerously close to his eye and he ducked and rolled out of the way, doing what he could to cover his head. As he lay on the ground, something bigger, much bigger swooped down and Kaden did what he could to swat it away with his gun, brandishing it like a melee weapon, when something sunk into his flesh and he felt his body leave the ground. Putain. Kaden cried out from the pain, as he looked into the eyes of a winged spawn, its hooked claws tearing into him and his face getting dangerously close to his neck. His shout morphed into something of a battle cry as he twisted around and clobbered the monster in the head with the butt of his gun. It screeched and he felt a release from the pain in his sides. Only to also feel the rush of wind fly past him as he fell towards the ground. Aw, fuck. This was going to hurt.

Neither the sword nor the bullets seemed to be ideal for beating the swarm of monsters, and much like Kaden, Alain feared for his eyes more than once. Shielding his face with his forearm, he didn’t immediately notice that his friend had decided to go on a vertical journey through the cemetery, and the slayer, who had forgotten to mention that this might happen, found himself cringing as he thought my fucking bad. This sounded like something that he should have told Kaden about, all things considered. Now the question was should he catch him ? He probably could have supported it, but the idea of getting his eyes away from the rest of these things was unbearable. What he could do however, was kick a spawn under the other hunter. Undead flesh had to be more comfortable than the ground and gravel, right? “You alright,” he didn’t have a hand to offer, as a few spawns were heading toward them. They weren’t done yet with the flederpreys. This was going to get out of hand if they did not move fast. Spawns, he could handle, he had done this hundreds, and hundreds of times, but those pesky little flying fuckers? They were a lot more annoying than in his memories. Or maybe he was just getting old.

“Putain!” Kaden felt his bones crashing into other bones and flesh. Better or worse than the ground? He didn’t know. “Thanks for the help,” he grumbled as he pushed himself up, wiping the dust off his hands as the spawn below him dissipated. He didn’t waste time reloading his gun and letting shots fire into the monsters above him. A good number started squealing and some started dropping. There had to be a better way to take down this hoard, more efficient than their sword and gun combo.Alain was having more luck but Kaden didn’t know what the fuck else to try. It’s not like he had a toothpick launcher to stake these fuckers. Fuck, if only he head a better idea. He pulled out a bottle of holy water and threw it at the monsters and… nothing. “Fucking hell!” Not vampires, not really. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He reloaded and let out more bullets to sink into the monsters’ flesh. The herd seemed to be thinning slowly but surely, not with a whole lot of help from him. He ducked to avoid more tiny talons and locked sight on the winged spawn still swooping around. He might not be able to hit the flederprey but he could sure hit that fucker. He let shots fly, a number of them riddling its wings with holes and the beast gave an ungodly screech as it plummeted to the ground. Kaden covered his head and ran through the field of flederprey towards where the span nose dived, stake in hand. He felt the pricking on his back of the small creatures as he drove the stake through the spawn’s heart, rendering it to dust. . A wing swooped down close to his eye Kaden dove and ducked out of the way, running into the other hunter as he tried to avoid it. Fuck. “Sorry, there’s-- How fucking many of these are there?!”

Kaden’s reaction drew a fit of laughter from the other hunter. As inappropriate and badly timed as it was -vampire dust turning laughter to coughing-, Alain simply could not help but react this way to Kaden’s surprise. Vampires had always, and always would be messy, and it was why he couldn’t consider ever quitting this gig. There were too many, and they could reproduce too easily, and so, it was essential that he did not quit. While the slayer knew that there were more vampire hunters out there that could replace him or do the job, he felt now, more than never, the need to keep going. After all, it was too late for him to start anything new. This had been his life, and this would be his life. Slowly, the cemetery became quieter, and soon enough the sound of weapons being drawn, fired and thrown was no longer heard. “Wasn’t so bad now was it?” With a sigh, he dropped his shoulders and had a look around. “Mmh, give me a second,” he could feel that there was still something close. It was faint, but it could only mean one thing. And so the hunter strode away from his friend. The place fell silent, and then there was a scream. His own. Hanging from the ceiling of a mausoleum was a silhouette, one that he mistook for her, just for a split second. The spawn (for it was one), startled by the sound, threw itself, all claws out toward Alain, who barely had time to protect his face. A gash on his forehead, he stumbled out of the mausoleum, one eye blinded by his own blood. “Bordel de conneries, de putain…” the rest of his curse was lost into the night and he looked around him, searching with one eye for the damn thing.

When the flock was finally picked off, Kaden leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch a breath. Still, even through his exhaustion, there was a hint of a smile on his face. He couldn’t help it, the adrenaline kick of a hunt was hard to fight off. “Yeah yeah, shut it. Next time remember to bring something for crowd control. I don’t like fighting swarms of anything for a rea--” He stopped mid sentence as his friend’s face fell. Kaden’s eyebrows knit together as he tried to stay still, listen. Alain decided to go ahead alone and so he simply nodded and let him. Kaden wasn’t going to argue with a moment to rest. But he knew better than to drop his guard completely. He made sure his gun was reloaded, stake easy to access. When he heard a scream, he was glad he did. “Hold on!” he shouted, barreling towards the mausoleum after him, weapons at hand. He saw the spawn sprint out before he caught sight of Alain. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired at the creature, riddling it with bullets until it squealed and dropped down. Not enough, not with vampires. He ran over and gave it a final stake through the heart. Kaden didn’t pause to watch it collapse into a pile of dust, he ran to check on his friend. The string of curse words was a relief, it meant he wasn’t dead. “What happened? You alright? Putain, it was just another one, what was that?” He searched for an answer in his friend’s face, but all he could see was Alain’s wide, frightened eyes, hear the pounding of his pulse. Shit, he didn’t know if he’d ever seen the slayer this spooked.

When would this end? The thought ran on loop in his head. His eyes were still staring directly at the mausoleum. He would not have been able to tell for how long he remained like this, looking into the distance. The feeling was familiar, but he had not grown accustomed to it. He however, was tired of it. Time passed, and it happened less and less often, but every once in a while, he still would get nightmares, or flashes of horror while he was awake. If he had mentioned to Kaden that he had been having nightmares due to a mara, he never mentioned the terrors he could get while he was out and about, or that sometimes they happened while he was busy hunting. He knew too well where this conversation would have gone, but now, he could not exactly escape from that. This whole situation made Alain furious. Part of him wanted to blame Evelyn. After all, he suspected one of her mara friends was responsible for this. Who else would have wanted to protect her like that? The thought that he had defended that woman made him feel gutted, but not as much as the way she had treated him. He still missed her, but in moments like those, he was just angry. He did not deserve this. No one did. “I thought I saw something else,” it might have taken him a few minutes to reply, or maybe seconds. Fright had a way to distort time and reality after all. “I’m okay,” he assured him. Well obviously no one would believe that.

Kaden’s brows furrowed as he tried to read whatever look was on Alain’s face, see if there was some answer to his questions there that weren’t in his friend’s words. “Well you did, you found another spawn. It’s dead though,” Kaden said, looking over to where the body should have been. Right. “Well, alright it was already dead, I mean dusted.” Yeah he wasn’t used to the easy cleanup that came with slaying. Really it was unfair that beat hunting didn’t have this sort of advantage. “Sure you are.” Kaden started to clean off his weapons, start putting them back where they belonged, pistol in its holster, stake in his pocket, knife in its sheath. “It’s fine, you know. To not be okay,” he told Alain, still not meeting his friend’s eyes, almost as if to give him some moment of privacy with his emotions. “You two seemed really--” Happy. He knew the word would cut like a knife, didn’t want to say it aloud. “So I’m sure it sucks. Finding out that you accepted her. And not the other way around.” It was the reason why Kaden had been too afraid to even try to tell Regan what he was or what he did. And part of him felt like he was still only halfway there. The fear of rejection ran deep and seeing it end like this? It didn’t exactly inspire him to delve deeper. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. I’ve got your back either way.”

Alain, who had yet to muster his feelings together, managed to finally glance away from the mausoleum, from the circle of turpitude he could have so easily thrown himself into. Getting lost in his thoughts had been his main problem lately, and so he tried to focus on what Kaden said to him, although he didn’t smile as the other hunter corrected himself. There was something endearing about it, but he did not budge. Not quite out of torpor yet. “Right,” of course he was full of shit, and Alain did not think for once that Kaden could have believed that. Even the slayer himself did not believe this bullshit. Pinching his nose, he held a hand against his mouth for a moment. Did he want to talk about Evelyn? Or about them? He focused on his breathing. The subject could easily draw him into a fit of anger, or sorrow. He did not want that. He could feel the air filling up his lungs. That was a soothing feeling. That helped. “I should have seen that coming. We live in a world full of hypocrites, don’t we. Look at us.” Hunters who claimed they had a sense of duty, except when they happened to like that one person or creature. Hypocrites, everywhere. Some paid for it, some did not. He happened to be on the wrong side of the coin. People liked to hate hunters, until they needed one. He knew that. He really should have known better. “I guess I’m not okay,” he admitted with a raise of his shoulders. This small shrug might have not been much, but it was not often that Alain confessed to being affected by things. Pride might have been the one thing he did inherit from his father. “I just need the nightmares to go away now,” every single one of those reminded him of her. Without those he could move on, right? “And well, whatever those hallucinations are,” he motioned toward the mausoleum, turning his back on it.

There were plenty of times Kaden wondered why people bothered with him. He didn’t always know what to do with emotions or how to be properly supportive. He wasn’t Morgan or Bea, he didn’t know how to have a conversation or how to force it. He didn’t know what Alain actually needed beyond staking a few vampires. Catharsis through anger and violence, that’s what he knew. That he understood and could facilitate. Anything else? He was lost. It didn’t help that his situation was in a different position. Their similarities were so palpable and differences so stark by comparison. Still his brow creased at the word hypocrite. Sure. That wasn’t wrong. But the word didn't settle. He couldn’t let it, couldn’t swallow it down. If he did, he’d have to live with that feeling of being wrong, feeling wrong. He’d prefer to stave that off a little longer, keep it at arm’s length, delay the inevitable. “Yeah, well, still sucks. I’m sorry. You can do better, anyway.” Kaden continued pacing up his gear, inspecting it, making sure nothing needed repairs or care later. He didn’t know if Alain believed him or wanted to hear it, but it was true. He could do better than a monster. He didn’t have to hang his hopes on someone who couldn’t accept him for what he was or what he did. He could have better than that. Maybe now wasn’t the time to bring it up, though. He sighed. “No shit you’re not okay. I can see you. I know.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his way. He was no expert on how to avoid bad dreams. His plan was usually just not to sleep. “Well, you can always try that baku that Blanche has.” His blood curdled at the suggestion of a supernatural solution. It felt wholly wrong. The supernatural was the problem not the solution. Wasn’t it? He didn’t know anymore. “That or time, you know. It fades with time.” That’s what everyone said, anyway. The grief of loss faded with time. He supposed it was true. It did dull. He wasn’t sure it faded or just meant less. Guess the reason didn’t matter if the result was the same, right? “Well, looks like we cleared this place out. Want to head back?”

Kaden’s dismissal of the hypocrisy drew a grumbling sound from the other hunter. Alain didn’t make any comment but he looked a mix of disappointed and offended as he looked away from the other man. His brows furrowed and he shook his head. It was not so much being with someone that he missed. Being alone was fine, really. It was her that he missed, but that was something he had to work on. He couldn’t afford to dwell on that, he did not want to, and maybe Kaden was right when he said that he could do better, whatever that meant. Not Alain cared enough for relationships to find better. He had been content being by himself all those years, and he had to be realistic : he did not have many years left anyway. It was selfish to start something with anyone. Rubbing at his face, he nodded then shook his head at the next suggestion. As much as Alain wanted the mara’s after effects to fade away as soon as possible, he was not keen on the idea of letting a monster in his house again. He remembered what Evelyn had said about those too. Then, he really wanted those nightmares gone. They no longer happened every day, not even every week, but he still had some every fortnight, and they stuck. “I suppose time does that,” of course it would fade away, the memories, the meaning of things. “We can head back,” he agreed, kicking at the dusty remains of that mausoleum spawn. Fucker. “You wanna stop by the house for a drink or you’re good?”

“Yeah I think I can do that,” Kaden said with a smile. He gestured for Alain to lead the way. Truth was, he had almost intended to go back to Regan’s right after. It felt wrong, though, running back to her when his friend was hurting more than he was going to let on. It didn’t matter. She’d wait. Hell, she might not even be off of work for another hour or so. Either way, that didn’t matter. Whether she understood or not mattered little, too. The slayer needed some support, even if it was small and silent solidarity. That much Kaden could manage. “Let’s hope the way stays clear on the way back. Or not. If you think you still have it in you, old man,” he said with a joking elbow as they made their way out the cemetery back home.

[lubbuthedigitalnomad]

A PERFECT PLACE

Happy Bob Marley BD (it was Feb. 6), Tibetan New Year (Feb. 12) and Valentine’s Day week! I hope you and yours are happy and healthy. Communications from America say that things are a little less crazy now that the election is over. That’s good. Even the most pro-American Asians were thinking we went a little wacky!

With any luck, folks in the USA will continue to take deep breaths and calm down. With a little effort, things will become less hateful and more loving as both the reds and blues start to realize that working together is the only way things will ever work at all. With that sentiment in mind, this week’s 1000 words are from the Fearless Puppy On American Road book, and about a time and place that remembers the more beautiful part of the American experience.

Once something changes, it can never go all the way back to what it was. In many ways, that is a good thing. We can preserve some better parts of the life we already had while allowing room for new and improved ideas. Insisting that both those new ideas, and the parts preserved from the old, are employed as actual improvements that benefit the vast majority of us has become the non-negotiable, essential responsibility of each and every citizen. Like it or not, it seems we will have to stay actively, consciously, and intelligently involved in order to insure success.

Please be well & stay well. Love, Tenzin and the Nepali Crew

FEARLESS PUPPY WEBSITE BLOG

FEARLESS PUPPY ON AMERICAN ROAD/AMAZON PAGE

REINCARNATION THROUGH COMMON SENSE/AMAZON PAGE

FEARLESS PUPPY ON AMERICAN ROAD WEBSITE

Rural Vermont

Helpfulness. Tribalism at its best. Everyone works together on everything. Lives depend upon each other in temperatures well below zero.

Hitchhiking is no longer just getting from here to there while barely knowing my host. Nearly every ride establishes or increases a friendship.

More cows per square mile than people, more open space than cows, and more forest than open space. Pronounced seasons and cycles. Cold, white winters. Muddy springs. Vibrant green summers pulsating with life that knows it only has a few months to do what needs to get done. Rainbow autumnal foliage so brilliant that guests come from continents away to view it. Streams clean enough to drink from.

Eggs come from happy chickens — not from the cruelty of large “animal production” warehouses.

Everyone waves hello to anyone driving by.

There’s always time to speak with whomever you meet at the General Store or Post Office. There’s always time. No hurry. Life comes first. Being is more important than doing (once the doing gets done).

The only store in town is the size of five closets but has everything — food, hardware, videos, clothing, beer, and more. A giant empty cable spool acts as a table around which to enjoy coffee, home- made donuts, and the company of neighbors. A best friend makes maple syrup. Everyone grows incredible gardens.

I have spent a lot of time with four other people and five beers staring into the open hood of a pickup truck that was not in need of repair.

Wood keeps you warm three times — once when you chop it, again when you carry it in, and the third time when you burn it. Overflowing abundance lives here. Some folks want more. Few need more.

Theater groups that produce professional-quality plays thrive in the forests of nearby vest-pocket towns.

The purity and clarity of omnipresent Nature rubs off on its human inhabitants. Crime, violence, and assorted hatreds appear only in newspapers and on TV stations. No one here has seen those things in person.

The Town Treasurer has a sign on his office explaining, “It’s very hard to get away with anything in a town this small.” Live and let live. If it hurts no one, it’s legal.

Resourcefulness is a way of life. Anything you need can be built from left over parts of things that you don’t need anymore. If you don’t know how, someone will show you. They’ll be happy to help — even happier if you bring a beer to say hello and thank you.

Deer hunters and trout fishermen deny slaughterhouses and corporate supermarket chains their abuses and profits. Unprocessed foods, hard exercise, low stress, clean air, and clean water deny the medical industry their profits from unnecessary surgery and drugs.

Awe inspiring natural beauty excludes land developers and their profit-over-people motivation. Their concrete and steel are not welcome here. The industrial decay that would lead to profits for a large assortment of unethical folks in fancy suits is denied entry by the conscious decisions of simple, intelligent farmers in overalls.

There will never be a Wal-Mart or a crack house here. There are many guns. They are never used for anything but hunting food. People are constantly helping each other to build a barn or house, dig out snow and mud, care for the children, cook, clean, weed the garden, and feed the animals. Anything that can be done at all is usually done by a group, even if it’s actually a one-person job. Folks enjoy each other’s company. Except in the most extreme circumstances, everyone deserves inclusion.

Parties get thrown together instantly for no other reason than that someone feels like being the host.

On a Tuesday, my friend Mike told me that he was having a party at his house on the following Saturday.

“What’s the occasion, Mike?”

“The occasion is that I just came up with the bright idea of having a party. I’ll get out a side of venison and buy a keg of beer. Tell everyone you see to tell everyone they see. If anyone wants to bring more food and drink, that’s good. If not, we’ll be fine with what we’ve got, I figure.”

“OK, Mike. I’ll get everyone but the assholes informed.”

“Inform the assholes too, buddy! Who knows? Maybe if they got invited to more parties, they’d figure out how to act better and wouldn’t be such assholes.”

It was hard to argue with Mike’s logic, but then again it is hard to argue with much of anything in a clean, friendly village.

During those years of having a home community and base station, a lot of work got done elsewhere. Rest time there made hitchhiking across nearly every inch of road in Northeastern America possible. I probably hitchhiked as many miles regionally during this period as the number of miles that were traveled in all the previous cross-country trips. Each full month of whistle stops working for environmental groups and charities included many towns and cities. It included talking to independent business folks all day about various causes, sleeping wherever possible, and celebrating whenever plausible. At the end of road tours like that, staring at mountains in between long naps was more of a necessity than an option. It is a lot easier to burn yourself up on the road when you know that a perfect place to revive is waiting for you.

The focal points of the road binges included Greenpeace, Citizen’s Awareness Network, and self-organized efforts to help support a Mexican orphanage, raise awareness and funding for American homeless folks, and help the victims of a very severe African famine. The results varied. My little part as a team member in the environmental efforts worked consistently for over a decade at each. The orphanage and homeless projects I organized worked minimally. The famine relief effort worked very well. It involved a governor, two senators, labor unions, school systems, businesses, major league sports teams, rock bands, and more. Thousands of people in the Northeastern section of America gave massive help.

This is a short chapter, but it covers a long period of years. Eventually, my good friend who allowed me this cabin in paradise had to liquidate his properties. This put me back out on the street at age fifty. But for a while, my life was as close to normal as it had ever been. It included long term friends and neighbors.

Those years seem to have gone by very quickly.​

About the Author

Doug “Ten” Rose may be the biggest smartass as well as one of the most entertaining survivors of the hitchhiking adventurers that used to cover America’s highways. He is the author of the books Fearless Puppy on American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense, has survived heroin addiction and death, and is a graduate of over a hundred thousand miles of travel without ever driving a car, owning a phone, or having a bank account.

Ten Rose and his work are a vibrant part of the present and future as well as an essential remnant of a vanishing breed.

Follow him on Facebook, Doug Ten Rose

Travel Adventure Books can be an excellent gift to your friends and family, buy from Amazon.com

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The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through Amazon or the Fearless Puppy website, where there are sample chapters from those books. Entertaining TV/radio interviews with and newspaper articles about the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not limited to Buddhist monks and nuns.

If you missed the Introduction to the new book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier, or would like to see several chapters of it that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section. This is a book in progress. You will be reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story — and probably the only book ever written by and about a corpse journeying completely around the world!

[tanoraqui]

please write more for that au its SO CRAZY GOOD i need more... youre such a brilliant write

no knowing what this was about. Please enjoy character sketches of six generations of Watsons + a couple Holmeses, courtesy of this bit of technically-original-fic-because-of-public-domain. Still not sure what I’m going to do with all these people!! 

Mycroft Holmes, 1830 - 1901

Original incarnator and namer of Sherlock Holmes

Basically to see if he could. Incarnator and academic studier of spirits. Spark, and good at it.

(Death spirits aren’t very stable bc they tend to. Um. Kill the host. Only so much you can do to restrain the nature.

Mycroft concluded that that’s bc it’s always polluted by the fear of death - pure death would be more directable

He was right? Also, I guess mildly suicidal? And did a lot of trial and error in brief experiments in hospices, even a war zone or two, over a decade or so. Personality developed based on Mycroft’s, ofc, cool-emotioned but ever-curious, and an ego the size of imperial India

So Holmes was substantial enough to manifest more or less as we know him when Watson had a panicked moment on that battlefield

John Watson, 1867 - 1891

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1886 - 1891

Dutiful, mom friend, selfless, kinda all or nothing, quick decisions - good in medical emergency, sometimes impulsive/reckless, mediocre shot except at snooker, reads for fun - especially once he picks up a bookwormy demon

Trained incarnator-physician

Summoned him in a terrible moment in the war in Afghanistan(?) in 1886

The field hospital was under attack, evacuation having been interrupted by unexpected enemy maneuvers, and Dr. Watson was torn between shooting on the enemy and trying desperately to tend to patients, but there was no way out and nothing but death all around. Nothing at hand but death.

So he figured “what the hell” and summoned a spirit out of that, bound to his own body ofc, and had him kill all the enemy. Holmes offered to take some of the death out of the British wounded as he did. A friendship began.

“Listen here, Watson - war is no place for pure death!” -some discomfitted superior officer, dismissing him from the service

John didn’t fully disagree, the easiness felt wrong - but it all felt wrong. And the medical applications…

But no hospital would hire him, with a death demon and the way he flinched at sudden noises still, hands that still shook 

Holmes scented a recent death, they interrupted a police investigation, impressed them with medical knowhow + death sense (passed off as medical knowhow for the moment?)

And That’s How We Ended Up A Consulting Detective 

Died in 1891 in the course of dispelling Moriarty, a life demon and criminal mastermind - fell off a cliff, on top of him, to injure the body so bad Moriarty had to vacate

Mary Watson née Morstan, 1876 - 1929

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1891 - 1914

Sensible, dutiful, decisive (good in crisis, sometimes bad choices, esp. in anger), more aware of her own faults than John but also must work harder to overcome internalized prejudices

Took up Holmes after John’s death, to (vengefully but well-intentionedly) scour any trace of Moriarty from Earth.

Often did so with Young John on her hip, bc what else are you gonna do. Could’ve gotten a nanny but didn’t have too much money and (along with Holmes) was more worried about him out of her sight than chasing murderers with them

In the early 20th centuries, she started getting overtures from the British government re: taking Holmes to war and just, you know, fucking shit up. When WWI started, she and Young John quickly devised a Plan™

Young John Watson, 1891 - 1939

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1914 - 1939

Eminently practical but secretly romantic, nay, Romantic™, drinks hella respect women juice, quick-thinking

His mother started calling him “Johnny” instead of “Young John” when he was 2, but Holmes never picked it up - to Johnny’s annoyance, bc he wanted to, you know, not just be his father. They had a full argument about it, Holmes refused the juvenile nickname, but did his best to use “John” for like a week before reverting. It grew on him a little, though.

The Plan™:

Basically, the govt had slowly come around to the idea that a weak and feeble woman was in possession (ha) of one of the strongest demons in England. They (she and Young John) were sure she’d be summoned once war broke out - indeed, perhaps she was, but it was more like sounding her out and she put them off. Can’t draft a woman after all.

But clearly they’d escalate, so…fortunately, John had fallen thoroughly and mutually in love with a young American woman, who didn’t mind taking him home at all - they’d probably beaten it around the bush a little, hypotheticals, and then this…there was a bit of a tizzy tbh. John nearly fucked it up, emphasizing that he was immigrating for Holmes and not for her, no pressure on her whatsoever. Possibly they didn’t sort it out until they arrived in New York - though this did have the boat ride to do it.

But yeah: Mary released Holmes, John took him up and left the country with the govt none the wiser, Mary continues putting off the govt until the passports were thoroughly stamped…

And then America stayed out of the war long enough, and idk if “conscientious objector” was a thing but I’m sure he found some way to put it off. 

Holmes did well during the Great Influenza, at least.

Buuut they ended up consulting detecting anyway lbr. 

Shot in 1939, possibly by sniper in crowded area or at least by gunmen in unexpected attack, on a case set up by Moriarty…

Gave Holmes his death, final order to get Jillian out of here alive. 

Amelia Hunter, 1896 - 1966

Moderately wealthy New York family

Visited her second cousin in London in 1913-1914, as well as the English suffragette movement (herself a part of the American movement)

Met and fell quite in love with Johnny Watson, with a cheerful dose of “your mother is so cool.” Cheerfully helped him and his mother con the British government out of a death demon, married him once they both got their heads a little straight

Jillian Watson, 1920 - 2019

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1939 - 2019

I’m not saying she swore vengeance on not just Moriarty but the entirety of Nazi Germany whom he was supporting (for fun a profit, per usual), after they killed her father in front of her - for almost certainly the express purpose of keeping Holmes out of the incipient war - but I’m also not…not saying that

Nor am I saying that she was part of the inspiration for Captain America in this ‘verse, or at least for Peggy, but I’m not not saying that either

Slightly rogue incredible combat fighter who volunteers to go fight Nazis before it’s even cool? Yeah. Yeah. Some Peggy art just straight-up looks like her, once Kirby&Lee somehow met her

Jillian Watson. How do I begin to describe Jillian Watson

Jillian Watson is a superhero. Jillian Watson is a spy. After WWII, once someone in the army decided it was better to work with her than against her, she ended up in…whatever proto-CIA they were forming at the time

Also, got married and had a kid while still on semi-desk duty

Jillian Watson is known as “Angel of Death” in 40 languages in 95 countries. Jillian Watson liberated at least one Jewish concentration camp. Jillian Watson stopped the Cold War from getting Hot at least twice - and neither time involved Cuba. She was on vacation that month.

And Holmes, obviously. They had a very solid hot/cold balance - only one was ever emotional at once

Jillian Watson has kissed a KGB agent, killed a king, and met nearly every US President from Truman through Reagan. She liked Eisenhower best. Carter downright annoyed her, and she nearly had a shouted argument with LBJ, though they also exchanged a handful of letters

Jillian Watson probably helped bring down the government in Iran in the 70s

Jillian Watson was probably not a great mother. She was too busy chasing adrenaline and maybe glory. 

They liaised with the FBI, too, as it grew, and shifted to their Spiritual Crimes Division completely in the late 60s/early 70s, when age was starting to really catch up with her - a death spirit can keep away infections and viruses, but not the simple wear and tear of age and adventure

When the AIDS crisis hit, Marcus put them in contact with people and Jillian Watson once more became known as the Angel of Death, this time for bringing mercy

Retired age 80 (2000), under duress. Still did some consulting. 

Liz was an option, but she was already getting on, and maybe irritated not to have gotten Holmes before (and/or maybe growing out of that desire anyway?) Manuel was a candidate, but Holmes needed a lot of talking around - and it didn’t matter yet, bc neither of them wanted to be parted. Neither could quite forget losing her father (or hte original John Watson) and Holmes meant to stick it out, and Jillian had no intention of retiring that much

Eventually got some quite contacts - nay, friends! - among elderly in her area to engage in consensual euthenasia now and then. Supplemented by hanging out in morgues and cemeteries and buying and killing a TON of plants, and sometimes mice.

Went on a lot of protest marches in retirement

Marcus Watson, 1920 - 2005

Twin of Jillian

Gay

Settled down with a lovely partner (Henry White) sometime in the 50s in NYC, where they lived for the rest of their lives

Not particularly interested in the life of a consulting detective/incarnator. Didn’t mind, but got squeamish, and just…didn’t enjoy being in danger. John took him on a couple cases but Jillian was the one who wanted to go, to know, even when they were kids, and he was happy to let her. Born to be a house husband.

He and his Henry were fully exclusive, neither got AIDS - but they lost a lot of friends. Practically, he turned Jillian and Holmes on to the crisis, connected her with people who knew people

Jeremiah Fletcher, 1918 - 2000

Married Jillian Watson in 1946

Fell in love when she broke him out of a German prison in 1942

African-American

Elizabeth “Liz” Watson, 1949 - 2009

Free spirit, adventurous, thought her mother (+ Holmes) was the coolest person ever, wanted to be the same. 

Legitimately badass in her own right. Joined…same service probably? They didn’t want another woman but someone intelligent resigned themselves to at least having a Watson in reserve, in case they couldn’t convince the demon to accept another host

Though, why “convince” when you can bind?

And if there’s no alternative, maybe he’ll be happy with a proper agent…

Or there was one person hiring who wasn’t a total ass, eventually

Though possibly by that time she’d decided “fuck it” and set out on her own

Basically a mercenary. Expected to inherit Holmes when her mother retired. There were some awesome mother-daughter expeditions

Got having children out of the way early - one child, at least, via a random French man in the summer of 1970. Donna from Mamma Mia energy. Jacques SomethingFrench

Tension with her mother (and Holmes) grew as Jillian continued to not retire and Holmes…tried to look after them both tbh. Liz hated being cosetted

Heart attack age 60, slightly adrenaline-induced but relatively tame - hiking or something; maybe surfing. Died quickly in hospital

Therese Marquéz née Watson, 1971 - present

Resented being left behind with her grandfather (Jeremiah) or great-uncle or just nannies while he mother gallivanted around the globe, but nor did she personally enjoy gallivanting

All but refuses to carnate even a light or luck spirit

Ran away several times, permanently at age 18

Met a nice young man in police training, (him), married him quickly, had twins, happy for a while…until she got furious at him for working long hours, risking his life, not giving her the domestic bliss and picket fence life she’d imagined 

Also, he got along with her family, which she couldn’t stand

Didn’t even wait for him to come home, just left the twins with Manuel’s sister’s family and left

Has come to see them a couple times, called on birthdays usually, but in general is a mediocre person

Manuel Marquéz, 1970 - 2012

Husband of Therese

A Good Man

V aware of how the world is shitty but wanted to make it better anyway

Whirlwind romance with a beautiful but mysterious girl while he was in police training, had twins, thought he was achieving the American Dream until it turned out his wife was bristling with resentment and straight-up left one night while he was on shift

Prior to that, Jillian and Holmes randomly showed up at least once to see the twins, having heard from Marcus that they existed (the only family member Therese told; the only one she stayed in much contact with)

They got along great - he took her snappishness in stride, they shared a slightly cynical sense of humor and desire to do good nonetheless. Got talking about police investigations and procedure, he wanted to invite her back except Therese couldn’t STAND it, so they didn’t

But when he lost Therese, he reached out - because fuck you, but also, so the kids could know that side of their family, and by then Jillian had also settled down in southern CA probably? 

Dog person

Shot on the job when his kids were a year into college

David Marquéz, 1991 - present

Twin of Vanessa. Normal. Down-to-earth, B or B+ student, liked some sports, had friends, went to state college - Jillian offered to help pay for both twins, Manuel accepted bc that shit’s tough, especially two at once

Amiably disinterested in spiritual stuff - doesn’t mind, is more or less blasé about the whole Death Spirit thing - acts blase, at least; is actually kind of uncomfortable. But doesn’t want to be his mother, and so habitually doesn’t make a big deal of it, or of anything. Mediator.

Met a nice Jewish girl in college (Hannah Steinbeck) (himself tentatively, idly Catholic from the Marquéz side), dated her all through, followed her back to Boston to get a job…idk, something on computers. Coder?

Loudly insists (technically factually) that he’s the older brother, but to his credit has solid energy for it: responsible, stolid, reliable, Will fight if given cause. 

But also, DID cheerfully leave his sister to be primary local caretaker to their elderly great-grandmother and her death spirit, not long after their father’s death. Will put his hands over his ears and talk loudly while walking away from stressful situations

Strong-ish but apathetic carnator

Vanessa “Vinnie” Marquéz/Watson, 1991 - present

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 2019 ongoing

BSN from idk

Thinks SHE’S the responsible one, particularly after David moved to Boston

Got along well with her father; he always supported her desire to go into medicine to help people. Really looked up to him, considered that career - but he urged her to be more actively helping life than just stopping death/crime (wanted better for his kids)

Always fully aware that good cops like her dad are rare; kind of illogically despises the whole institution since his death

(WAS that, too, arranged by Moriarty? Question for another day)

Likes Great British Bake-Off but CANNOT bake; likes Project Runway and other fashion shows and does, actually, have good fashion sense (just insufficient money to fulfill it). Sews well. Talks to cloth like it’s a patient

Lesbian! 

Roommate is Darby, also a nurse, they/them. Together they’ll totally be like, *Leslie Knope voice* “Tragically, we are romantically incompatible*

First case happens literally in the apartment 3 stories down

I’m not saying she’s gonna kiss that FBI agent before it’s over but i’m sure as hell saying she’ll THINK about it

Also will get ⅔ of the way to telling Holmes to kill her and get the civilians out before backup arrives

[starstruck-thirst]

She Wants Revenge:

Part 5

Illumi Zoldyck: All Wound Up

Series title is from band based on the same name. The chapter title comes from the song ‘All Wound Up’ by She Wants Revenge. You can find it by clicking the here. Sincerely I hope you guys listen to these songs because they are picked very specifically.

Part 1 of series is here.

Warnings: Dub con sexual scenes, mental manipulation, NSFW

______________________

Somehow, he wasn’t even angry.

Even though there was glass all over his desk, pens strewn onto the floor, and every drawer pulled and turned out Pariston felt nothing. A hesitant assistant wasn’t able to discern how the vice president was feeling, which was evident from how he kept staring at the VP. Looking for any sign of emotion in the man’s face as security carefully stepped around the fallen objects in the room.

“We’ll need a list of things that are missing to help us figure out who did this, sir,” a dark skinned woman stated as she approached him.

“Thank you, Caliadne . I will make sure to do that this afternoon,” he replied to her with his iconic smile, charisma radiating off of him as usual.

She too seemed a bit off put by how Pariston was reacting. Not the same as his assistant that wouldn’t let Pariston leave his line of sight. The assistant knew how Pariston’s moods could sometimes be, but Caliadne had no idea. Her concern was his total lack of reaction to an obvious robbery. “Are you okay, Vice President?”

Semi-dramatically he shrugged, lifting his hands to the air to really emphasize the movement. “It is already done. What would getting angry do to help?”

She gave him a sincere half smile, it brought up the right side of her mouth more than the left he noticed. ��That’s true. A very healthy way of looking at it, sir. As you know three other offices were also left in horrible states, but we’ll be putting yours towards the top. A VP needs his desk.”

“I appreciate it, Caliadne. I’ll just go check on some projects I have out right now while you all work. Call my cell phone if you need me.” He turned and took two steps toward the doorway before stopping with a sigh. “Silly me. “Sorry, Caliadne,” he turned back to the room again, “Could I get something out of my desk? I promise to step carefully. I just need a document.”

“Oh! Sure. One little thing won’t be a problem,” she responded with a smile before moving out of the way and toward another security member to resume her job.

With a lazy flick of his wrist he shooed his assistant. “Take the rest of the day off.” The well trained man left without a word, not even hesitating just in case Pariston’s disguised anger was lurking and wanting to seek a way out any time soon. Pariston smiled, sometimes training pets was very simple. But other times they made a mess.

Could a certain pet of his be the cause of this mess? Already there had been some disobedience, and he had been suspicious of all of her actions due to that fact. They say keep your enemies closest, and he intended to do just that as much as possible. It was easier to catch a slip in the words, or sense the hand coming for your throat when the person was laying right next to you. Was this the beginning of a tantrum?

He thought about this while opening his desk drawer. With natural movement his eyes looked down to the side of the desk where a secret compartment hid within. It would be hard to ascertain it was without tampering until he was alone to really investigate. But was there a little chip of wood missing next to the door?

“Thank you,” he said again, leaving the room with a document in hand. Caliadne responded clumsily- caught off guard by his leaving so abruptly- but he didn’t pay her any further mind. Someone in this association knew who did this. There were too many eyes, too much nen flowing through the building, it was impossible to pull something off like this at Hunter HQ and not be caught.

And he knew just the pawn for the job. It had been almost a month since his arranged bar run-in. Maybe it was time to shake her up again. Remind her that he was everywhere, and even if she felt like being a brat that he was still in control.

“You promise?”

Pariston stopped.

A female voice slid out from the break room door behind him. Soft, timid, with a powdering of… something. He knew that voice.

“Of course,” a male voice said with complete seriousness. He sounded flustered but sincere.

Turning on his heel he started towards the break room, footfalls firm on the tiled floor, ready to catch the two in a lovers embrace. Where he hadn’t really been feeling anything before now he felt dark anticipation as he rounded the doorway. He was already thinking of what he would do to a certain woman who had snuck back into his life, who knew better than to touch another man when she was so clearly his to play with.

But the only person in the break room was a member of security. Thersander, Pariston remembered after a moment. He was looking into his coffee cup, flustered face plain to see as his sea-green hair was buzzed short. Thersander looked startled when Pariston stepped in the doorway so abruptly. “Oh! S-sir! Sorry just getting a drink before getting back to work on tho-”

“Are you alone in here?” he didn’t care why Thesander was in the room. The only thing he cared about at this moment was where she went.

Thesander looked around and then back to Pariston, “Yes?”

A second door into the room was still open to Pariston’s right. He had forgotten this floor’s break room had two entryways. He frowned and Thesander straightened up to leave, attempting to escape any further questioning. “Who were you chatting with just now?”

The other man looked somewhat alarmed at Pariston’s tone, but apparently couldn’t be so easily frightened. “No one, sir. Excuse me.”

Frustration bubbled inside of him as Thesander left the room quickly, and the thought of tripping him as he walked past flicked in Pariston’s mind. Maybe on the floor he’d remember who Pariston was and he’d answer questions more honestly.

But he didn’t. Such blatant actions couldn’t be taken in the middle of a busy day.

Pariston made a quick mental note to revisit Thesander at a different time, before putting his hand into his pocket to find his cell phone. The morning wouldn’t be a total loss he decided, dialing a number from memory.

~*~*~

Nothing in the office felt normal today. It was hard to act like it was a normal day when the President, Vice President, and two managerial offices had been ransacked. The question on everyone’s lips was primarily “How?” The “why” was less questioned. There had to be a lot of valuable stuff in those offices. If not physical objects, information. In this world information was as important, if not more important, than possessions.

And the concern was a valid one. HQ was always occupied by hunters. The security was airtight, you had to badge in and out, and windows were reinforced. The log showed no unauthorized entry attempts, the windows were all in perfect condition, and security had been actively on the clock all night. Besides, something like this just wasn’t done. No one was that stupid.

Yet here everyone was, walking around on eggshells as security holed themselves up in the broken offices and people who couldn’t go back to said offices patrolled the floors. Netero didn’t seem too upset by being kicked out of his office for the day. He visited break rooms and laughed with other hunters, taking long breaks, and generally was hard for people to find if they needed him for work. He seemed to be having the best day.

You had even caught up with him once just before lunch. He had given you a polite wink before leaving for a ‘quick bite’, and you knew he’d be getting food somewhere across town today. Must be nice, you thought as you watched him go.

As he disappeared from sight you decided to get a bit more work done before your own meal. But turning to proceed with your day you were halted as Pariston appeared in front of you.

Somehow you hadn’t seen him all day, not that you were avoiding him per se. Things had been reoccurring since dinner at his condo, not yet to the level that they had been before the ‘break’ but still pretty involved. Dinner twice a week, sex at his place once a week, and so far only natural touching at work. That last bit was good and bad. Just seeing him could make you wet, but the way he would force you to blow him during one on one meetings- hiding under his desk trying desperately to be quiet- had been nerve wracking.

Though now it probably wouldn’t have bothered you at all. The thought was actually tempting in the moment as you watched him approach you, until you remembered all the security in his office.

Things had become more enjoyable now that you had power to help control Pariston. But admittedly you ached to truly be in charge again. Remembering each time you had been so fortunate in the past filled you with need and at times caused you to push your luck a little too hard. Pariston didn’t like sharing power, so he was happy to put you back into your place. So sometimes you liked to play into it.

“Good afternoon, Sir. Are you off to have lunch as well?” you asked in a completely business only tone. The look he gave you as you treated him like a common boss brought you a joy that was hard to describe, but reveled in. It was something like quiet disappointment. You wondered if he missed when you would shyly address him at work, excited but also nervous as to what he would have in store for you.

“I take it the president just left,” he said with a wide, polite smile. You nodded in response and he chuckled. “Can’t be helped. Hm, maybe I should get some lunch as well. You should join me. My treat.”

It wasn’t an offer.

You toyed with saying no anyway, seeing his scowl as you went against his wishes would give you a special high that would carry you through until the end of the day when he spanked you for your nerve. But the office was stifling and an escape sounded so very nice. “Sounds delightful. Let me put this stuff down and I will meet you in the lobby?”

You didn’t wait for his answer, it hadn’t been a real question.

Spite the looks he gave you when you played back, disobeyed, and acted a bit like a brat, Pariston didn’t show any signs of dropping your relationship. Granted, every time you touched you fed into him a need for you. An almost craze inducing reliance on your presence. Not pulling back the feed as his strong will was hard to slip into so the stronger the more likely any trace would actually affect him.

So far it was working. And the bruises on your ass and thighs were reminders of that fact.

But you didn’t want to toy with Pariston too much, pushing him too far could make him lose interest or decide that the fun games you had played up to this point were too light. And as much as you liked being tied up, being tied up and left in a room for almost a week to the brink of insanity wasn’t your idea of fun once let alone twice.

As such you did meet him in the lobby as quickly as possible, catching him before he even had time to send you a warning text. “Sorry for making you wait,” you said with a tone of sincerity. It seemed to placate him for the moment, any tiny shred of submissive behavior you gave him he took with greed.

“You didn’t take too long,” he responded with a warm tone, putting his cell phone in his pocket. This song and dance was so old to you that the importance of each movement was apparent, but he still did them. Little ticks of his controlling nature that he wanted you to know so you would heed each movement like an obedient dog. Trained well enough to earn best of show as you sat up and begged for the audience. “Let’s head out. I have a car already waiting for us.”

Getting into vehicles with Pariston was still unnerving. No one would see you cry, flinch, or beg for Pariston to be kind if he so chose to enjoy some especially cruel treatment. No one other than the driver of course, and he chose them very carefully. They’d never speak against him. So each time you were alone the possibility of harsh action increased. Once he had twisted your wrist for touching a male co-worker in the car on the way to a business lunch. He had been kind enough to explain that you had tripped and sprained your wrist on the way to the car. When the man you had touched went to shake your hand goodbye, your sprained wrist had given a nice excuse to avoid further contact.

“So,” you flinched but didn’t whip your head to look at him like a scared prey animal, “You still haven’t told me all the details of your year away.”

A warm, large hand slid over your thigh and gripped the sensitive limb tightly, each finger tip digging into the muscles. He didn’t stop when you finally turned to look at his hand then his face, pain plain across your face. “Pariston, that hurts,” you begged softly, but his hand remained firm. As did his smile. You put a hand on top of his, trying to gently suggest them away. “Why are you suddenly asking?”

“I don’t have to have a reason,” he said with his grin growing into something wicked. His free hand reached across to your throat, running his thumb up and down your larynx. “Don’t dodge the question. Where were you during our year break?” His voice had a sharp edge, even as he cooed sweetly to you. Like a lover asking where you would like him to touch you.

Your leg trembled as your hands covered both of his the best they could. “I- I visited my parent’s graves,” a truth. He waited. “And then I lived in my hometown for a while. I was… just trying to live a normal life there. But… I couldn’t,” a lie. But you wanted him to believe you. Even just a little bit. “Pariston, you don’t believe I would lie to you. Do you?”

Lovingly you caressed his hand with your left as you stared into his eyes, willing your command to work. “You know, I thought of you every day.” He watched you, distant and unmoved. “Every day I thought about how I wanted to get back to you. Touch you. Look at you.”

Kill you.

His grip lessened and you leaned in, silently asking for permission to kiss him first. He didn’t move or say anything which meant you were free to try. Deciding to take the risk you leaned up to his still face and kissed his lips a few times before he finally allowed you one single kiss in response. “I missed you,” you muttered to him as his hand left your neck to run through your hair.

“I hope you aren’t lying to me,” he replied in a hushed tone. Sparks tickled up your spine in response to that voice, and you leaned into it with bliss. “You know I don’t tolerate lying.”

Even if you were having fun playing with the fire, some part of you was watching everything from a distance and shuddering. The woman who cried and shook in the shower, unable to free herself of the demon Pariston. Sometimes it felt like there were two people in your body because as much as you loathed and feared him, you did truly care about him also.

“I know,” you responded in a matching tone of seriousness.

The car stopped, the driver got out and waited outside of your door. Pariston released you and tapped the top of the car two times, letting the driver know it was okay to open your door. It had only been moments in the tight fit of the vehicle, but the fresh air outside still felt lifting. It tasted sweet- like freedom- and you happily turned into it to escape the still brooding man.

You stretched your arms up, taking in a deep breath of that free air. Between the office and that car ride the day was very suffocating. And not in any kind of way you found enjoyable. Wearing a true smile of joy, you turned to Parison as he walked towards your side of the car, “What did you have in mind for-” Something felt strange suddenly. A snap of your senses told you to look past Pariston’s shoulder where someone with short dark hair was standing completely still, totally alone.

“Pariston!” you cried reaching for him with one hand on instinct.

In a fluid movement you pushed him into the car, stepping forward towards the questionable person. But you didn’t make it any further than that step before a sharp noise cut through the air and a needle was in your neck.

The sunlight dimmed into a deep blackness.

~*~*~

Netero stood in front of the large windows in his office with a heavy feeling in his body. Nothing had felt right about this day. And it continued to be a complete mess. Security had cleared out of his office quickly, and it was fortunate because now he needed the privacy. Some time alone to reflect and think about everything that had happened.

The paperwork that was piling up on his desk wasn’t the part that bothered him the most. It was the fact that no one felt safe at HQ. And how could he blame them? Offices ransacked, an attempt upon the life of the VP, a dead hunter on the streets in broad daylight, and no one had been caught for either crime.

A knock at the door. Firm, but not assuming entrance. “Come in, Cheadle,” he announced, not bothering to turn around.

The door opened silently and clicked closed a moment later, the only noise in the office for some time as the two stood in silence. “I brought the death certificate. I just need you to sign it.”

He nodded, sighed, and unclasped his hands from behind his back as he turned to face her. “Thank you for helping out. I have a lot of things to sign today. None of it pleasant,” he mused while taking a seat. “What did the coroner have to say?”

“Fast acting poison.” She crossed the room and gently laid the death certificate upon the only clear spot of the desk. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

“How is Pariston?” He searched the messy desk for a pen, not bothering to look at Cheadle’s scrunched up expression at the mere mention of the VP.

“He’s being very quiet.”

Finally a pen was found and Netero dutifully signed the death certificate with a face of sadness. “I’m not surprised.”

“Sir, you don’t honestly think he cared for her, do you?” Cheadle scoffed.

“Who knows. Parston is a unique person,” he responded firmly, looking up to Cheadle’s face for the first time.

She frowned, clasping her hands in front of her, thumbs pressed together. “I have intel that Pariston was having someone investigate her for the HQ break in.”

“Oh?” Netero’s eyebrow rose.

“This morning something was delivered to security. I think you should see it, sir.”

~*~*~

It felt as if you had the wind knocked out of you, and all at once the air rushed back into your lungs. Well it was exactly like that as you had been almost completely devoid of any air in the moment before. Like a fish you gasped, grasping at nothing as you blinked several times. It felt like you were going to die.

Again.

A man took a step back from the bed you were laid out on, watching you with curious bright blue eyes from a tan face as you looked around the room in an almost manic movement. Your chest heaved several times as your body remembered how to breathe, and it took a minute or two for everything that had started back up with such intensity to calm down and act somewhat normally again.

Slowly you sat up, breathing mostly regular, to look at the man in the corner. “I don’t… recommend dying,” you tried to joke, but his cold blue eyes didn’t move. His neutral expression didn’t change either. He had looked exactly the same as he had when he murdered you.

“It’s strange,” he said, taking a step forward again as you felt your neck for any damage because it still felt… off somehow. A welt remained from where the needle had struck you. Hopefully that was the extent of it.

“Watching someone come back from the dead? I would assume it would be strange. I can’t say I’ve seen it myself,” you responded. Remembering something very suddenly you retrieved your cell phone and checked the messages.

[The fake body has been sent to be cremated. Your agreement with the head has been fulfilled.]

The fake body that you had been replaced with wouldn’t last longer than 24 hours, so you had been told, so this was the best outcome to have hoped for. The hunters worked quickly, and that was a favor in times like these. But even with how quickly the hunters had worked, the spiders had been faster.

They had paid well for what they had taken from HQ with your intel, and done so immediately. Though it all had gone directly to your new friend standing in the room. The cost hadn’t been small in any stretch of the imagination. But it had been a necessary step. What had been hardest for you was that you actually had no idea when you’d be killed. That was part of the contract. It had to happen within three days of the break-in, but you hadn’t wanted to know when.

Of course you hadn’t wanted to know so you could be genuine the entire time, but also… it had been exciting knowing you were going to die for sure. Death was inevitable, but you actively knew it was coming for you soon. In a way you were sad it happened as fast as it had.

Yet at the same time, it couldn’t have happened at a better time. Now the entire act looked like Pariston had been the target, as you had been hoping for. The hunters would never be able to figure out one person who hated Pariston enough to target his life. Most of headquarters liked him, and the few that didn’t were large enough in number it would take ages to cycle through them.

You couldn’t help but smile a little, pocketing the phone again. “Can’t argue results,” you muttered as you turned and stood from the bed with as much elegance as you could muster. Which, due to your practice over the last year, was pretty good considering. Already your muscles felt tight, and each movement rushed blood through your body in a way you had never felt before. It was a strange experience and slowly your adrenaline caught up with you. You had died. And now you lived again.

Even if you had concocted the plan, this was crazy.

“I’m not accustomed to bringing people back to life. Just killing them,” the calm and calculating voice continued.

“That was why it cost so much,” you muttered turning to him. Everything made you feel so aware of your body. It was exhilarating. Each brush of your skin against itself felt fresh, and the rise of your chest with breath made you wonder how it all was perceived from an outside perspective.

He nodded, though you hadn’t needed the confirmation- or the reminder for that matter. You had maybe 100,000 Jenny to your name now. At this rate you might have to become a real thief to get by.

“Well spent,” you said with a smile, walking around the room to really get the feeling back into your legs while also stretching your arms out. The lactic acid build up was noticeable and stung with each movement. But it was just a reminder you weren’t actually dead and so it was actually a nice feeling for once.

“Not completely ‘spent’,” the man reminded you.

You rolled your eyes when he couldn’t see your face. “I haven’t forgotten,” you replied going back to the bed.

Under the bed was a hard to remove floorboard. With some effort it popped off, revealing a metallic box. Almost all the money you had been secretly saving for a year was in this box. It symbolized a year of untraceable, hard work for this finale. No wonder it felt so heavy when you picked it up. You mindlessly caressed it a little as you stood and mourned the loss of the rest of the money you had promised to pay. The down payment had been most of it anyway, just this extra bit for the very uncommon ‘revival’.

When the deal was struck, through Hisoka, you had mentioned you didn’t want to pay the entire cost upfront since you weren’t absolutely sure you would actually come back to life. Hisoka sounded entertained by the fact you were bold enough to make a demand of assassins, but had relayed the message all the same. You weren’t sure how he had managed to arrange it all, especially since you still had yet to see him yourself, but he had done it.

“It was nice while it lasted,” you muttered to the tin with another loving pet.

The man across the bed reached behind his head and pulled a single needle out from his neck. His eyes dimmed, losing their brilliant blue and sinking into a deep black. His skin paled and hair grew two feet, pouring down the sides of his head like ink. You watched with complete amazement as he walked around the bed to the same side as you. Had he grown taller as well?

“Zoldycks are amazing,” you whispered as he stopped in front of you. This was your first time seeing the assassin Hisoka had promised would be everything you would need, and he didn’t disappoint. You wanted to touch him with your new hyper sensitive skin. How would he feel? Would he be hot from using his nen? Was his skin soft? You felt so distracted by the thought of answering these questions.

He nodded again at your statement while putting his hand out to retrieve the box, unaware of all your sensations.

A memory of something else Hisoka said crossed your mind.

[Might be a good chance to really test out your abilities ♡]

[If you have the courage ♠️]

The danger of the idea was all too apparent. This man had killed you so easily. He could do so again you were certain. If you actually went through with this insane thought, there was the very real possibility that he would eventually kill you even if you did escape after.

But…

“I know it is your job, but thank you for the extra service. Illumi, correct?” you asked opening the tin to retrieve the cash. The Zoldycks were the most blatant secret if you knew where to look. But Hisoka had spilled Illumi’s name easily.

“Correct,” he responded, waiting patiently.

You hadn’t even touched him yet and already your pulse was through the roof. “I’m Adra. Of course you knew that, sorry. But, since you were curious, do you have any questions about what it was like? To die? To come back to life?”

Illumi tilted his head, and the movement seemed so elegant when he did it, even if it was somewhat cute in the way it had a certain innocence to it. He put one long thin finger to his lips as he thought about it. “Perhaps. Is this a form of negotiation? Because I will still insist on the full amount.”

You chuckled, “No no. I’m just… coming back to life has me feeling a bit chatty I guess. I just feel… odd. I suppose that is what makes me want to talk about it? It’s very strange.” You offered the money out to him with both hands.

He hesitated just a moment before reaching out with one thin hand to grasp the cash. Thinking it was better to go slowly so as not to spark any assassin defensive training, you slid your fingers over his, “Illumi, talk with me for a bit.”

The action was tame by most standards, but you had hoped for him it would be an intimate enough touch to make your ability most effective. To start out you were only using a level two. It had to still be something he’d be more willing to tolerate. You hoped to bring the water to a boil around him slowly, so that by the time he realized how hot it was it would be too late.

Illumi retracted his hand with the money. Quickly he counted the stack to be sure of it’s accuracy. Afterwards he looked back to you and nodded after pocketing the cash. “I can entertain this line of questioning, for a little while.” There was an unspoken warning in that last bit.

Pleased you sat on the bed and motioned for him to join you. He thought it over and apparently assessed you as not enough of a threat to deny and sat. “Do you have any direct questions?” you asked thinking over how you were feeling. Could you even answer these questions? It felt surreal. “If you don’t, I do. If you aren’t in the business of bringing people back to life, how did you know how?”

This he responded to promptly. “My grandfather told me how to do it. Supposedly, he has done it in the past for an assignment.”

Apparently some things weren’t much of a secret. You shifted so you sat sideways on the bed, leg very casually brushing his hip. A natural, accidental move. Illumi didn’t seem to be pleased about it, but accepted it at face value as an accident. “Does it have to do with nerves in the neck? Like where you stabbed me?” you asked pointing inaccurately to where he had sent a needle.

He frowned a little, brows lowering in the typical signs of frustration, and took your hand in his to point to the appropriate spot with your still stretched finger. On contact you immediately started to feed desires into him. I want to touch you. I want you to talk with me longer. When he pulled back something in his face had changed slightly, but it was such a trace amount there was no way to know what had happened inside of his head. “In simple terms yes. But it also requires specific nen training. Now you will answer my questions.”

You shifted on the bed with a smirk and bit back the ‘yes, sir’ that almost slipped out as a joke. “Of course.”

“Do you remember when you died?”

You thought about it, looking down at your hands while you did so. “I remember stepping out of the car and… feeling your aura. I saw you for only a second and reacted on instinct. Honestly… in that split second I almost forgot the plan. I felt as if I had enough time to both grab Pariston and avoid that shot. Obviously you’re a trained expert and would have adjusted for such a scenario, but it just felt slowed down for a moment.”

You looked up at Illumi remembering the street. “In that moment I could taste the air in a way I’ve never been able to before. My vision was sharp and clear. Like something in my brain knew this was the last sensation of life I would have and it was trying to compound all it could into a few seconds. Then, I felt the needle strike. It was a strong sting, but tolerable. I could feel the poison drain into me and… that was it. I didn’t even feel myself fall. The moments before were so slow and hyper realistic, but that happened so fast.”

Though you were looking forward at Illumi, you weren’t really seeing him as you remembered what had happened. Everything had been so clear but now you were trying to remember Pariston’s face. Had you seen it? Was he surprised? If your memory was to be trusted, he had seemed shocked.

A cold finger against the slightly swollen needle mark brought you back to the moment. Illumi was looking at it with medical grade interest. His fingers were chilly against your neck and it felt amazing. Generally you preferred a warm touch but it felt like you were almost running a fever by comparison so the cool sensation was appreciated. Without actively trying you fed more into him as he touched the back of your neck as well. When he pulled away you almost grabbed him right then and there.

But not yet. The water wasn’t yet warm enough.

“What were you looking for?” you asked.

“I was curious about my aim is all.”

You smiled. “And?”

“It was perfect,” he said with the same neutral tone. No signs of pride or gloating.

This made you laugh. The kind that bent you in half as you covered your mouth to help smother the noise. Illumi patiently waited for you to be done. “I’m sorry. Illumi, you’re one of the most interesting people I have ever met.”

He looked confused, or as confused as you had seen him look. “Oh!” you put a hand on his leg and leaned in excited, “What was it like to kill me? I know you’re used to it but this time you knew I wouldn’t die. Was that weird? Illumi, please tell me.”

If hand touching had any intimacy rating a hand on the leg definitely would count, and you pumped desire into him as fast and hard as you could while simultaneously issuing a command. It was the first time you were attempting to do both with such energy.

For the first time it seemed as if he hesitated due to being completely caught off guard. “The actual act of killing you was nothing. I felt nothing. But I suppose the knowledge you wouldn’t actually die was frustrating.”

“Frustrating? I wouldn’t think not killing someone would be a concern.”

“Not in that way.” His eyes drifted while he thought more about what he had said.

Now felt like the time to start taking from Illumi. In little sips you tasted his desire, getting a feeling of how much you had managed to start to manipulate him. But things were mixed up in the way they felt. Where Pariston, Chrollo, and Hisoka had all had one color of desire Illumi’s felt like looking at a stained glass window reflected in water. So many colors moving and slightly morphing. It was as if many of them he didn’t even recognize and thus they would remain latent in the back of his mind. Left to evolve unnoticed.

It was overwhelming in a way you were not prepared for. The intense desire that could drown you was something you had come to expect. Even if you couldn’t always handle it, you knew it was coming. This was so completely different. There were so many different wants, each having different feelings of intensity, so it was like being hit over and over again by an unseen assailant. The feeling of looking at them all was like looking into the ocean and only catching shadowy glimpses of things you could comprehend.

“Illumi,” he looked at you, if he minded your touch it wasn’t even readable. “Tell me, do you want to kill me again to finish the job?”

The colors flickered. An orange hue started to shine. “Yes.”

“Even though you did your job by bringing me back to life?” He frowned and the orange dulled, replaced by a shining purple. “Illumi, let me touch you.”

His eyes sharpened. This was a level 3 manipulation and you could see his desire colors shift again but he didn’t move. Slowly you lifted both hands to his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t want my money back. Tell me what you desire in this moment.”

“I want to kill you again,” he said seriously. The weight of that truth triggered your hunter instinct to flee, but you fought back which created a rush of excitement to flood your body.

“But you did your job. Isn’t the Zoldyck pride about doing the job?” His colors flashed again. “Illumi, trust me,” you said sitting up on the bed to slowly straddle him as his hands gripped your shoulders. He was fighting back in the ways he could. You had told him to let you touch him, but he could still restrain how much by keeping your chest away from his own.

You had jumped the gun but the need inside of you was bursting. Perhaps it was some of Hisoka’s desire still living in you but the mere mention of someone saying so blatantly saying they wanted to kill you made you crazy. And playing with Illumi, watching his desire colors change was so entrancing.

With skin on skin contact you started to again send your desires into him to help further alter those colors. I want to feel alive. I want to test out this body. Touch me. Let me touch you.

He flickered. Red. Pink. Orange. Red. Blue. Green. Several times colors grew together and faded separately.

“Illumi, tell me: do you like it when I touch you?” He was silent. Though it had been a command he was so conflicted he couldn’t even answer. “Interesting. Do you want to touch me?”

His dark eyes were watching your face but he managed a half nod. You practically buzzed with excitement, and you couldn’t wait any more. Or rather, you didn’t want to. You were this deep in the hot water, you might as well just go all in.

“Let’s live a little,” you told him. The face he got when he was curious but also a bit confused was becoming something you could recognize instantly and you had to bite back the urge to laugh again. “I want you to please me. In return I’ll make sure you leave feeling satisfied as well.”

Something tickled the back of your neck. Removing your right hand from his face you snatched up his wrist and with great effort brought it in front of you to see his fingers clutching a needle. This one wasn’t like the one used for the assassination. That one had been thicker, something that could be noticed by a coroner and conceivably carry poison. This was hair thin.

You frowned. “I thought we were on the same page.” Illumi’s eyebrows lowered. “Illumi, you are not to try and kill me or do something that will lead to my eventual death directly.”

The command for him to trust you had bought you time at first, but now you had to command more directly to keep the game going. It would be hard to keep track if you issued too many commands, but you were this deep now so all chips had to go onto the table.

He scowled and his desires flickered. “Come on, Illumi. I promise this will be fun. Here, I’ll show you. Give me your hands.”

Slowly he offered both hands to you. First you took your belt off, then with great effort you got them behind his back and tied firmly with the belt. “Do not break this,” you ordered.

Any time you could actively remember to during the process you fed more of your desire into him, watching the deep green build. There was something in that color you felt you could resonate with but you couldn’t pinpoint.

Once his hands were firmly secured behind him you sat back on his lap and smiled. “Don’t get up,” you added with a friendly caress of his chest. “Let me make my case.”

Carefully you slid backwards to kneel on the floor, being sure to rub against his cock as you went. Intending to keep the teasing up, you slowly gripped the front of his soft pants, dipping the tips of your fingers in to lightly brush against the head of his cock. Already it was somewhat hard. “You’re excited.”

You dragged the band of his pants down just enough to let the head peak out. “Would you like to know something I’ve learned about my ability, Illumi?” You asked tucking your hair back from your face as you leaned forward. “I can make other people feel my desires, but they don’t share them unless they want to. See, I tested it,” as you spoke you continued to lightly caress the exposed flesh above the waist band, “I tried to get someone that had never met Pariston before to have the desire to kill him, like I had. But it didn’t work. They could feel it, but they didn’t share it.”

You looked up at him, licked your thumb, and began rubbing it over the very top of the head now. “You know what that means? Any time we share a desire, it’s because you genuinely have it too.”

Illumi’s face still seemed sour, but his brow line had softened as he fought to show any signs of feeling your actions. “Illumi, do you want me to continue?” As you asked you stopped rubbing and took your hand away entirely. “Tell me the truth,” you said, keeping one hand on his knee for stability.

His eyebrow twitched and his lips quivered just for a moment before he let out a breath. “Yes.”

You wanted to scream with excitement. Putting a hand around him again you leaned forward and licked the very tip of is cock with a flick of your tongue before looking up at him with just your eyes. “Say please,” you commanded.

“Please continue, Adra,” he said in a very level voice. Hearing him say your name filled you with pride. You noted that he wanted to at least sound like he was in control with how he responded. He wasn’t going to answer with a low submissive voice. You liked it. A Zoldyck wasn’t helpless. That was what made this so electrifying.

“Lift your hips for me.” He did so even though it wasn’t a command and you slipped his pants down to his knees, allowing his cock to lift completely unhindered. “You’re so handsome,” you said honestly as you took it back into hand and licked from the base all the way to the tip, being sure to flick the tip of your tongue over the top again. Something told you he had liked that.

He was a nice size and felt full in your palm. Methodically you licked around his shaft, providing enough spit that you could run your fingers in a circle up and down around the base with ease. The entire time he didn’t say anything, but that feeling of him enjoying it remained. When you took him into your mouth, centimeters at a time to draw it out, you closed your eyes. His stained glass was still there, but the deep green was dominant and growing in tandem with a golden color.

You could feel the colors dancing across your skin, so unlike the grasping desires of the other men. Illumi felt like a breeze crossing your arm on a cool day, but it still was deadly. A growing wind that could suck the living breath from your lungs. That chill from the feeling made you feel even more alive and you hungrily moved your hand in tandem with your mouth.

The hand on his leg for stability felt his muscles tense, and as you moved the green grew in your mind. It felt of greed. It all made sense suddenly. He was trying to tamp down that hungry greedy feeling inside of him all the time. But the power it had to flare out felt so strong that you took him deep into your mouth and throat, trying to feed that needy green you were taking in and sharing with Illumi.

You had almost missed it, but as you moved up and down on him you could hear his breathing. It was noticeable, quick, and shallow. Easy to miss with its quiet tone, but it was enough to encourage you to take a peek up when you backed away again. His head was hung down so that his deep black eyes could watch you work, and there was a distant look in them you had come to expect from people you influenced. Your arms raised in gooseflesh as he bore into you and you sucked on the head only, moving your hand up and down the rest so that you could watch him in return.

“Slide to the edge of the bed,” you instructed him, hand still gripping him tightly. He obediently did as he was told immediately.

You swallowed once to clear out your throat before taking him into your mouth again. Moving him quickly in and out as you leaned in close. Illumi tensed throughout his body as you successfully completely took all of him in. His breath and the sound of your wet mouth on his cock was all you could hear, each inhale urging you to keep going. In your mouth he twitched and you knew he was getting close to cumming.

Moving back you took in a deep breath as his cock slid out of your throat. Perhaps you had gone at it a bit too long because you were breathing a bit heavily yourself. A quiet sigh made you look to Illumi again. His brows were knit together in frustration, cheeks flushed a very light pink. A little swirl of pride at leaving him so close to that breaking point twisted inside of you as you stood up, knees already aching slightly.

“I told you,” you said with a tone of pride, wiping spit from the corner of your mouth. This time you tilted your head at Illumi, taking his hair into your hand to make a loose high ponytail before pulling his head so he’d look up at you. His hair was gorgeous, but pulling it back from his face like this made him look more vulnerable somehow.

This man had killed you. This assassin had killed you with a flick of his wrist and no conscious about it. And now he was wet with your spit and obeying your commands. Would getting back at Pariston feel as good as you felt now? Surely it would be even better. That train of thought filled you with energy and vigor again. Without warning you pressed your lips to Illumi’s and for a moment he almost accepted it before some part of his will kicked in and he turned away. “Sorry, was that too much?” you asked laughing. “I can get carried away.”

You let go of the soft black strands of hair, watching them tumble through your fingers as you remembered seeing an image of Pariston’s hair doing that very same thing. How different these two men were. And yet, somehow very similar. “Illumi, do you want me to let you cum or stop and let you go?” you asked, touching his shoulder and leaning into him so that he had to lean back and look up at you again.

He frowned, probably not liking the wording of the question, but was compelled to answer. “I want to finish.”

“Well… that was mostly an answer I grant you that.” You let him go but he continued to look up into your face of his own free will. “Is this the first time you’ve wanted something like this? Wanted to fuck just for fun?” you asked as you slipped your work slacks off, shimming your hips to get them down. Even as you attempted to get his attention to waver, it didn’t. “Though I guess you didn’t say you wanted to take me. Just that you wanted to finish.” You removed your underwear, kicking it off without looking. “So perhaps you don’t want to take me. Throw me on the bed and remind me to fear you?” Finally you took your blouse off, leaving your bra on because you felt some sense of power from not getting completely naked.

Illumi didn’t respond. “You’re stubborn,” you said with a sigh as you took his chin into your hand. How many times had Pariston held your face like this and made you do what he wanted? The thought made you pause for a moment before pushing forward. “Illumi, tell me if you want to fuck me.”

He kept his even tone, making it sound as if he was not being forced to answer, “I want to fuck you.” His entire face was torn between anger and something hard to decipher. But the overall look could be described only as indignant. Behind his back his arms tensed against the belt and the leather creaked loudly. If he broke them would he kill you as he so much wanted, or do exactly as you had suggested and press you into the bed while taking control back?

Perhaps one and then the other.

Once again you straddled Illumi’s lap, caressing his cock with an almost loving touch. “It’s okay to want something,” you thought aloud as you looked down at the hard flesh. “You don’t have to be what the rest of the world wants you to be.” You wished you knew what your desires looked like, or had looked like before when you were just an object to be toyed with by Pariston. Did you also look like a mixed amalgamation of things?

That person still existed. She was the one that watched in horror when you acted out to Pariston. But she felt so small and distant most of the time. Like an echo. You lowered your hips to rub your pussy against him in a slow and methodical rhythm, taking in that view of stained glass on water again. The green was still bigger and brighter, competing only with the deep golden yellow you had noticed before as well. That gold you hadn’t quite pin pointed just yet.

Illumi lifted his hips to rut into you, which was difficult as he had to use his bound wrists as a support to do so. It was impressive. “Come on, Illumi. Fuck me and make me feel alive,” you mumbled to him as you guided him to your entrance.

All too willingly he thrust up, the muscles in his arms straining to help lift his body aided only by the power of his calves as he pushed against the floor. So easily he slid into you, and you felt washed over with his colors. They circled you like a blanket of cool wind, taking your breath away for a moment until you could get the feeling of all those desires swirling inside of your head and constricting around you.

Now that you were connected you could feel them more clearly, the array of colors becoming more solid and forming a scaled surface. The feeling of a cold snake slipping around you and attempting to crush you as the colors on its scales shifted. Before it had been at rest, coiled up inside of Illumi. But now it was pulling you down to him as it crushed you.

The snake's eyes were red, the color of his desire to kill you. The feeling of the eyes looking into you was shaking, a sensation of being seen. But the scales of the beast were still brighter, and more important. The greed green was still bright, wanting to take you in this moment as a quiet act of taking something he merely wanted but felt he had to decline due to so many things.

And the gold. The gold was so powerful and it washed over you in big waves. It felt so complicated that you couldn’t hope to understand it as he entered you again and again. But you could feel the flickering of thoughts as desires; getting back at you, tying you up and torturing you, putting needles into your flesh in patterns only he understood.

Then fucking you while you were helpless.

Spite the wrapping cool of his desire you felt hot all over. You knew these were his own developing cravings at this moment. And feeling a new, real want bubble out from the mysterious assassin was pleasing. Like you had managed to chip away at something that had been mostly untouched for a long time.

Even if he wanted to torture you, it still felt like a win knowing he selfishly wanted it when before he had barely wanted anything that was easily readable.

Illumi took his opportunity seeing you getting lost in your experience. With a loud pop of his shoulder he somehow managed to bring both arms around to the front of his body, and you had no idea how he had done it. He didn’t go against your command to not break the belt, but he had managed to make it work in a way he wanted.

Before you could speak to issue a command he turned you onto your back, pressing you into the bed, him on top of you with his bound arms to your throat as your hands grasped uselessly at them. ‘You pushed your luck. Toyed with the wrong person at last and this is what you get,’ said that quiet part of you.

‘But I had to. I had to know if my power would work on Pariston. I had to push my limits,’ you argued back looking into Illumi’s quiet face. His cheeks were still pink, lips parted ever so slightly as he caught his breath. If he really focused he could break your level 3 and kill you. It would take a lot of effort, but he could. You should have issued more commands you realized. You could have controlled him so much more plainly.

Like always you got lost in your head. Or truthfully you had gotten lost in your own greed.

Unable to speak, and barely able to breathe, you licked your lips and waited. What would Illumi do?

“Illu-,” you struggled out, but was unable to say more.

Surprisingly, he lifted his arms off your neck and you took in a full breath. “Illumi, finish what you started,” you said as soon as you could.

You knew that it was vague, it could mean a lot of things, but that part of you that lived now had to know which desire he would choose. You knew which burned brighter, but did he?

Finally, he moved his arms above your head, pinning your still gripping hands to the bed as he positioned himself without the use of his own and slipped into you again. You sighed, enjoying the feeling of being filled again. This time you could spread your hips further apart and Illumi was able to hit a deep inner part of you that made you gasp with excitement.

He fucked you with such vigor that you could feel the bed move with you. And even though you knew that you had pushed your luck, you couldn’t stop your greed. “Illumi,” you cried, “Say my name when you cum.” It was a command, but only a level 2. It would be easier to ignore or fight against than all of your previous commands. Which was why if he chose to do it, it would be all the sweeter.

Almost gently he brought his lips to your ear, and you shivered at the close proximity of the special sound of his excited breath. “Adra,” he said softly against the side of your face.

It felt like a damn of pent up energy exploded out of you. You gripped his arms so tightly, losing track of what desires were yours and which were his as you created an infinite feedback loop. Your insides felt warm as Illumi climaxed.

With the big part of the rush of chemicals that came with the orgasm out of the way you were able to focus on Illumi’s face above you again. His entire face had softened into something new, but you couldn’t describe to save your life. But somehow you felt that for the time being, whatever dangers you had to be wary of with Illumi, Death wasn’t an immediate one.

The levels of manipulation you had used on Illumi were taxing. They demanded his energy to perform, and slowly he slipped to the side. You took in a deep breath as the crushing weight of him shifted away. Chancing the moment of hesitation to move you looked into his face, seeing his dark eyes slowly sliding closing against his will. Not wanting to miss an opportunity you sat up and slipped away so he couldn’t immediately reach you.

“One last thing,” you told him, as you brushed some hairs from his tired face, “Illumi, get some sleep.”

When the assassin finally woke again he would find you gone, but the money would remain. While you were a manipulator- specialist, you weren’t a liar. Money was just a thing. You had little need for it.

Besides, the only thing on your mind was gold. A specific man whose hair was made of gold to be precise.

[deejadabbles]

Spells of Defiance (Atem x Reader x Yugi) Chapter 6

Six: Speakeasies

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// [Eight coming soon] 

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split?

Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

A.N. Sorry it took so long to get the next chapter done, I had some personal stuff go down in my life a couple months ago and it took me a long time to get back in a decent mental state. I hope I make up for that with this long chapter. I also hope everyone and their loved ones are doing well during all the crazy stuff that’s happening right now, stay safe, and stay strong <3

“So who exactly is this Peggy guy?”

You almost wanted to snort in laughter at Joey’s nickname, and if it wasn’t for the knot in your stomach, you probably would have. “Pegasus, his name is Pegasus. And to answer your question, he’s a very prominent vampire in Domino. He owns a club that’s exclusive for highbrow fey and he’s been here for a good century or two.”

“And the circle just ignores his existence?” Atem asked.

Though his tone was devoid of anything accusatory (at least towards you) you still felt an uncomfortable tingle at the back of your neck at his words. 

“Not exactly,” you finally answered, “They have an...understanding with Pegasus. He’s supposed to give the circle information on his patrons if they’re doing anything wrong, but we all know he doesn’t, unless it’s something really big that’ll earn him favors from the Circle. Everyone also knows he has some shady dealings, and he toes the line of the Circle’s laws a lot. Still, he doesn’t go around blatantly killing humans or causing havoc, so they mostly leave him be. I guess you could say he’s a bit like a mob boss.”

Atem only answered with a sigh and looked away. Again that uncomfortable tingle crawled across your neck. Atem’s mood was still low from what little you had found at Marik’s last hideout. It was obvious that the place had been abandoned days and days ago, but you still felt an almost painful twinge of guilt in your stomach when you saw how much it pained Atem to have him slip away again.

You took the lapse in silence to look up at the sky, examining the clouds collecting overhead. The four of you were walking down the busy streets of downtown, the upscale, higher end of downtown with lots of private boutiques and day spas. The sun was just starting to set now, it was a good time to hit Pegasus’ club, less patrons to cause trouble, but enough that Pegasus would be less willing to cause some himself. Can’t look bad in front of the customers, after all.

“Do magicians come to his club often?” Yugi asked suddenly, and when you turned to look at him, you could see the worry in his lavender eyes.

You managed a small smile at him. “Don’t worry, Yugi, he rarely gets visits from the Circle. In fact, I’m one of the few magicians he’ll talk to...he’s a bit of a primadonna and usually demands to see ‘his favorites’ from the Circle only.”

“And how exactly did you become a favorite?” Joey asked, and you tried not to take the bite in his tone personally.

“When I was young and training under an older magician, my instructor and I got called to his club to arrest some trouble makers tearing the place up. In that particular moment he didn’t much care who from the Circle came to help him, but apparently he liked my…. spunk and started requesting me personally when dealing with the Circle.”

Joey gave a grunt of understanding but was obviously still unconvinced that this was a good idea with the way he averted his eyes to stare blankly ahead. Again the silence between you and the others caused you to get lost in your thoughts for a moment, mostly focusing on how all of this may go down. Atem wasn’t going to like what you were planned to suggest once you got there, but he would just have to learn to take his overprotectiveness and-

You sighed and mentally scolded yourself for the harsh thought. Atem’s protectiveness wasn’t him thinking you were weak, he just wanted to keep you safe. He and Yugi both cared about you. The feeling that rose in your chest at the thought made your fists clench. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, per se, but it wasn’t familiar to you and the fact that it had crept up more and more around the boys made you want to stuff it back down to wherever it had come from.

In fact, you had to do exactly that now, seeing as how the club was in sight. You stopped in your track and waited for the boys to turn to face you with questioning looks before you spoke up.

“Alright, this is the place,” you said, waving at the well-kempt brick building.

It had large windows beside the ornate double oak doors but said windows were covered by thick, red velvet curtains. There was no sign on the building, leaving the passing humans to only stare and wonder what the place was, if they took notice at all.

Though he didn’t want to be too flashy and have humans constantly knocking on his club's door, Pegasus still left his own posh mark on the exterior. The fire escape stairs were painted bright red and had vines twisted around it, growing flowers that would bloom when the sunset; a symbol to indicate just who his particular clientele were. Then, on the roof, he had added on more brick additions to the building, a short tower on each corner, his personal living quarters and studios if you remembered right. The whole place looked like he was trying to make his own English castle in downtown Domino.

You sighed and looked back at the boys, “Listen, I’m going to need to go in and see Pegasus alone.”

“What?” Atem’s tone was flat and, given the setting sun, he actually took off his sunglasses so you could fully see the displeased look in his crimson eyes.

“I know you don’t like the idea, but he’ll get suspicious if I walk in with three random fey. As it is, he’s one of my contacts that the circle knows about, so I’m already having to hide this,” you flashed your palm, the pink scar of your magician’s seal, at them, “from him to avoid suspicion. I’ll get more info out of him if I’m alone.”

You saw Atem bite his tongue, quite literally, and seem to contemplate what to respond with. In the end, he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “As you wish. But I want the rest of us to stay close so that if anything happens, we can help.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll signal you if I need help,”  you assured, relief flooding you as another argument was avoided.

“How will you signal us?” Joey asked, crossing his arms, “An’ just for the record, I’m not a fan of waiting.”

You actually smirked at him before looking back at the brick building for a moment. “If you three stay here you’ll be able to see when I give you the signal,” you actually winked as you turned back to them, “you’ll know it, trust me.” With that, you turned on your heel and started walking towards the door. “I won’t be long, just hold tight.”

“Be careful,” Atem called after you, apparently having to act on at least some of his protector instincts.

You almost managed to look over your shoulder and give him an assuring smile, but seeing the doors to Pegasus’ club made a begrudging air fall back on your shoulders.

Then, still about a dozen feet from said doors, you heard Yugi call out to you. Surprised, considering how quiet he had been since leaving Marik’s old hideout, you turned to him, brows furrowed. He was jogging after you, putting some distance between himself and the other two and he stopped right in front of you.

He looked a bit nervous himself and his tone was low as he said, “I just wanted to check on you before you went in. Ever since you started talking about coming here you’ve just...you’ve had this...anxiety around you. Are you okay?”

That unfamiliar sensation started in your chest again, especially with how sweet Yugi’s eyes were on you. Sometimes you forgot that incubi could sense more than just lustful emotions, that they were full empaths.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be okay, Yugi,” you answered lamely, then continued since you knew that wouldn’t satisfy him. “It’s just that Pegasus has always kind of creeped me out, that’s all.”

You felt stupid for saying it, out of all the things you had seen (and done) in your years, it shouldn’t be easy to make your skin crawl. Then again, the fact that he kept his dead wife’s body preserved with magic and had it displayed in a glass coffin Snow White style was bound to creep most people out.

Yugi’s eyes narrowed a bit at your omission and you were glad you left out the dead wife detail. “Does he try anything with you when you go to see him? I can make us invisible, like I did at the Sanctuary, so we can go in with you. I’ll make sure that creep doesn’t-”

“Yugi.” He stopped his almost-rant at your firm word, though you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at Yugi wanting to defend your ‘honor’. “I’ll be fine, I promise. And I swear if I need your guy’s help, I’ll ask for it.”

The sweet incubus sighed, then reached out and took your hand, holding it just long enough to give it an affectionate squeeze. “We’ll be right here.”

You almost had the chance to squeeze his hand back before he pulled away, though you had to ignore the urge to ask yourself why you wanted to hold it just a moment longer. With another breath, you turned away and walked the last few feet to Pegasus’ club.

You knocked on the ornately painted doors thrice, slow and steady just like Pegasus had told you to all those years ago when he first requested your presence. The eye-level slat in the door opened to reveal a pair of yellow irises that seemed to glow in the dying daylight. You kept your face blank as you stared back at him and waited. A grunt and an “oh, it’s you” later, and the slat was shut with a snap, the door opening a second after.

“Good to see you again too, Saru,” you mumbled as you stepped inside.

The large henchman shut the door behind you and Pegasus’ haven for posh fey was splayed out before you. The whole place was bedecked in lush reds, thick carpet with simple but old designs, curtains and drapes covering the walls and hanging from the ceiling, blocking out the outside world and its troubles. A set of three steps in front of the door led to the main area where guests sat. Dozens of finely carved tables with matching chairs, leather settees, and armchairs filled the main room, with wide enough paths for people to walk through without feeling crowded.

Then there were the private booths. Vases on pillar-shaped stands as well as fine art lined the walls between each booth notched into the walls. Some had curtains drawn over them for privacy, others sat with them wide open. Only a dozen or so people occupied the venue now, not including the string band playing on the stage to the right. A rather quiet night it seemed.

As you stepped inside you tried to ignore the silhouette of a woman dancing behind one of the curtained-off booths, two patrons watching her from their seats behind the red cloth. More so was it hard to ignore the young man sitting on a vampire’s lap, baring his neck to the older man’s fangs with eyes half-lidded and smile wide, euphoric even.

Some of the other patrons actually took notice of you as you marched across the room to the lavishly painted pocket doors on the other side. A man from one of the booths watched you like a hawk, stirring his amber-colored drink with his finger and not bothering to hide the suspicion in his single eye. A woman with delicate-looking wings smiled at you as you passed, trying to make eye contact with you so she might compel you to join her seat by the fireplace. Other eyes, vampire, cyclops, nymph, and otherwise burned into you from all sides but you ignored them, keeping sights on the silver haired man guarding the double doors that cordoned off Pegasus’ private room.

“I need to speak with his royal highness,” you said, dropping mood evident in your flat tone.

This henchman always wore his thick sunglasses even inside, but you could tell he was glaring down at you behind them. “Master Pegasus is entertaining a guest at the moment,” he snapped, obviously forgetting that Peggy himself had ordered his staff to treat you kindly whenever you stopped by. He must have remembered those instructions now, because he put on a mocking smile, showing his fangs as he waved at the table beside the vampire feasting on the young man, “Please, have a seat and I’ll call you over when he’s free.”

You felt a sneer take over your face as you took a step closer to the man, he was taller than you, but height didn’t mean jack when he had seen what you were capable of. “I don’t think your boss wants me to sit down. Because if I do, I might have time to start asking that vampire if he has a legal contract to suck on that human. Or how about the succubus feasting on the two men in the corner booth?”

The man sniffed, nose wrinkling as if a rotten smell was shoved under his flaring nostrils. “I assure you, all of our patrons practice legal feeding.”

“Hm, that may be, but a magician going around asking questions and ruining their night is still bad for business.”

Looking downright livid now, he opened his mouth to say something biting in reply, but was cut off by a drawling voice coming out from the crack between the doors behind him.

“Oh let her in you fool. You know I love it when my sweet magician girl visits me!”

The overly sweet croon in his tone made your scowl deepen, even as the head suit slid the door open with a grumbled, “Yes sir”.

Pegasus had changed his private room a bit since you last visited him. Instead of the long dining table, he sat at a smaller round one covered in a beautiful white silk cloth. The china dishes, crystal wine glasses, chandelier, and candelabra centerpiece were all the same though.

“It’s so good to see you again, my sweet!” Pegasus all but cheered, a smile turning his lips as he swirled his wine glass full of red thick liquid that smelled of iron. He was wearing one of his favorite red suits trimmed in white lace and his long curtains of silver hair were styled to perfection. “To what do I owe this pleasure? What do you need from dear old Pegasus?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink.

A scan of the empty chairs around the table told you that Peggy’s right-hand man had lied when saying that he was entertaining someone, as the only other souls in the large room were his two bodyguards.

“I came to ask for information,” you said, crossing your arms as you looked down at him.

The vampire chuckled, the sound deep and dangerous as he set his glass down and looked at you through his long lashes. “Now now, my dear, there’s no need to take that impatient tone with me. You know I’m always willing to help you when I can. So long as you pay my entry fee, of course.” With that, Pegasus held out his hand, palm up and looking delicate as it waited.

Your body tensed at the gesture, even though you had been expecting it. Aside from his all-around creep factor, and the fact that you hated owing him favors, this was the main reason you hated crawling to Pegasus.

Trying to resist the urge to sigh, you skirted the table and approached him. You placed your left hand in his, wrist up and veins vulnerable. He pulled you closer as he gripped your wrist and leaned his face into the warm skin.

“No need to be nervous, my sweet,” Pegasus practically purred, “you know I’m always a perfect gentleman.”

The way he ran his nose along the veins made your stomach crawl and heave; you were glad he couldn’t see (or didn’t care about) the sickened look on your face.

“Oh my,” he said with a tisk tisk sound, then flickered his eyes up to yours, not leaning away from your wrist in the slightest. “You’ve been cheating on me, my sweet little magician. I can smell another vampire in your veins.”

The memory of Atem feeding from you made a different heat crawl up your neck, but it mixed with another sick feeling as you envisioned Atem seeing you like this. It was a good thing you had made him and Yugi stay outside, or Pegasus would probably be on the ground by now.

“I’ve never said we were exclusive, Pegasus,” you said, hiding the shamed embarrassment behind quips. Besides, it paid to play along with his sick little games.

He chuckled at that, “Right you are, my dear.” Without another word, he sank his fangs into your wrist.

You tried not to flinch as the curative on his fangs flooded your nerves. Even with the numbing effect they provided, it was still uncomfortable to feel him tearing into your skin. Though he feigned kindness and worry, his fangs had none of the gentle care that Atem’s did, none of the soothing thumb strokes or caution to not dig in too deep, just enough to draw what was needed. Pegasus’ treatment was all mock gentleness; a sickly sweet whisper while sharp nails dug into bruised skin.

He never took much, thank god, but the moment still seemed to crawl by before he was retracting his fangs. He gave a satisfied, dramatic sigh, “My dear, your blood simply gets better and better every time you come to see me, like a finely crafted wine.” He chuckled at his own comparison as he pulled the white handkerchief from his breast pocket.

Though his puncture marks were already closing, blood has still dripped out from the wound and he dapped at your wrist, again with that mocking care. You supposed he thought licking blood from your skin was too uncouth or savage-like because this was his usual routine.

The moment his grip on you slackened at all, you pulled free of his grasp, “Now that I’ve given you your usual payment, I have some questions to ask you,” the attempt to keep any snap or malic free from your tone failed, but Pegasus didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Of course my dear, always happy to help!” He waved at the seat across from him at the round table, “But I must insist that you take a seat, I do hate seeing you stand the whole time.” He snapped his fingers at the guard on his left, “Get our guest a glass of wine!”

Again, knowing it paid to play his game, you skirted the table back to the side of the room nearest the door and took the seat there. Now that the worst part of visiting the vampire lord was over, you made yourself look at ease as you leaned back, arm propped up against the ornately carved chair. A third vampire guard came into the room from the door to the right of Pegasus, carrying a dusty bottle of red wine. He poured it into the crystal glass in front of you, but you paid the alcohol no mind, instead looking the newcomer over. He was young, or at least, young when he was turned, but likely hadn’t been a vampire long judging by the way he held himself. Marik wasn’t the only one who tried to turn the humans he drained in order to get more servants. You had always had your suspicions that such a practice was a reason Pegasus turned on his clients to get in the Circle’s favor. They were all too willing to turn a blind eye to the occasional human going ‘missing’ if it meant having a good informant.

“He’s new,” you commented as the man leaned back but did not leave the room.

Pegasus ignored your observation. “So my dear, what is it that you need from me? I promise I’ll help in any way I can.”

“I heard that the cult leader Marik has given you some trouble recently. Tell me about it.”

The vampire hummed as he took another drink of the thick liquid in his glass. He waited a beat after he was done, closing his eyes and holding his hand to his chin. “Ah yes, that loathsome little nat. His thugs thought it would be funny to terrorize one of my other clubs. Tore the place up rather well too, before my men could deal with them.” He opened his eyes again and held your gaze, “If you’re wondering why I didn’t call the Circle for help, I assure you such thuggish heathens were nothing to worry about.”

“That’s not what I’m wondering,” you clarified, though you were sure an illegal dealing or two at said club was the real reason. “I want you to tell me everything you know about Marik. I’m sure after that you must know something about him...or maybe his right-hand vampire?”

Again Pegasus waited a moment to respond, then, he nodded at the man on his right. “Go fetch Kemo, he might be able to tell her a thing or two about the incident,” he turned his sights back on you, “As for myself, well, I’m sure I don’t know any more than the Circle does about this Marik boy. He’s a roach, but he’s good at evading capture like one too.” He tapped his chin then, and it actively came to mind how much he was drawing this out. Then again, Pegasus always was a showman. “But since you mentioned his right hand, there is something I can tell you. After the incident, Marik sent one of his followers here to tell me that he hadn’t ordered his thugs to attack my establishment and that he had dealt with them thoroughly. I was shocked to say the least, I assumed someone as chaotic as this Marik wouldn’t care about smoothing things over, but perhaps he simply didn’t want to risk me going after his followers in retaliation.”

“What did this follower he send look like?” you asked, trying not to seem too eager.

“Oh he was a strapping young vampire,” Pegasus crooned, “very tall and muscular, with tan skin and dark hair. The most distinguishing factor, however, was the tattoo on his face.” Another long drink taken after the statement almost made you growl impatiently. “If the design being on his face wasn’t odd enough, the fact that it was of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs makes it all the more strange.”

So, Marik’s right-hand man was someone from, or at least interested in, Egypt. Interesting. “Is there anything else you can tell me about him or anything he said to you while he was here?”

Again, Pegasus took his sweet time answering, and as he did, Kemo, as well as two other bodyguards, came into the room. The fact that they, as well as the guard who had poured your drink, were now filling the room did not go unnoticed by you.

“Besides his surprisingly calm demeanor, no, I’m afraid there isn’t,” the vampire gave a bit of a dramatic sigh. “I’m sorry my dear, but surely that distinguishing factor will help you…” his eyes narrowed on you then, shifting from that drama queen act to the dangerous man you knew he was underneath. “I’m sure the Circle will appreciate the information, be sure to give it to them when you return. In the meantime, please, drink. You haven’t touched your wine.”

The familiar burn of adrenaline was starting in your veins now, but all the same, you sighed. You didn’t exactly relish making a mess. “You know I don’t drink while working, Pegasus. And besides that, did you really think I wouldn’t notice your goons closing in?”

He chuckled darkly in response, “I don’t make a habit out of underestimating you, my dear, but I’m afraid it’s too late. Other magicians are already on their way here, you best just wait for them. And please, don’t take this personally. As much as I adore your visits, turning a traitor over to the Circle will earn me quite a large favor with them. It’s just business, after all.”

Again you sighed, staying in our laid back position despite the fact that two more goons stepped into the room. “It’s your funeral, Pegasus,” your eyes drifted to the young vampire, who still held the wine bottle and seemed to be sweating bullets. “You really should have stayed home from work today, kid.”

With that your leg came up swift and hard, launching the table and its contents into the air as you sprang up. Your full wine glass was halfway back down when you grabbed it, smashed the end on your chair, and stabbed the remaining stem into the neck of the first vampire that made to grab you.

Yugi tried to keep his eyes on something that would distract him, like observing the old building before them, but the sound of his boyfriend’s pacing feet was too much to ignore.

“Atem, will you please calm down,” Yugi sighed, turning to face the agitated vampire.

Joey, who was leaning against the brick wall of the closed beauty shop next door, stretched his arms over his head. “Yug is right, stressin’ won’t get you anywhere.”

“She’s been in there too long. What if she’s hurt? Gods know what that man could be doing to her.”

“She wouldn’t have gone in if she didn’t at least trust this Pegasus guy a little,” Yugi countered. “Besides, she told us she would give us a signal if she needed help, she isn’t stupid.”

Atem halted his pacing and clenched his fists. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about her. Besides, how will we even know what-”

His words were cut off by the sound of shattering glass. They spun around, towards the large windows of the building and saw a man crashing through the glass. A wine bottle flew from his hand, clattering and clinking against the concrete as he landed hard. If there was any question on who this man was, it was answered when he sprang to his feet, raw flesh of his face already healing, and started running down the alley, yelling about how the pay wasn’t worth “this”.

“I guess that’s the signal,” Joey shrugged before the four of them descended on the new opening into the club, two well-dressed patrons running out as they did.

The sounds of a fight grew louder and the moment they came to the opening, Yugi almost had to do a double-take. Across the room two doors hung broken on their hinges, revealing an ornate dining room with more shattered glass and an upturned dining table. There in the middle of it all was you fighting off three- no, four (five?) fey clad in suits.

One made to grab you but you dodged and grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling it down to help hinder his arms as you set the fabric on fire. The man cried out as you kicked him, sending his now aflame body into one of his comrades. Without missing a beat you sidestepped another punch with grace, silver flashing in your hand as you came up and slashed the blade of your dagger across the vampire’s neck.

“Eh, you sure she actually needs help?” Joey asked, though he was immediately answered as Atem charged in with a growl of anger.

A vampire that had been hanging back tried to get a jump on your turned back, but Atem grabbed him by the arm and sent him flying across the decadent red room. That’s when Yugi spotted a door to their right burst open and even more minions came charging in. Not just vampires this time, one was a troll of sorts, another some minor race of demon, and a third who must have been a werewolf because he sniffed the air and turned excited eyes on Joey, canine teeth flashing.

In response, his old friend growled and descended on the newcomers, extended claws clashing with the other wolf.

Though you seemed to have confidence in him and Yugi was not above defending himself, he still wasn’t one for much violence. And if he was being honest with himself, Yugi wasn’t sure how much help he could be in the current chaos. The few patrons who hadn’t fled as soon as the window was open now ran past Yugi in varying stages of terror, or at least with a despondent air of ‘nope’. All except one, a nymph by a fireplace who sat reclined in her chair, calmly sipping her drink as if this was simply a mildly entertaining interactive play.

Yugi’s attention was snapped from the nymph as he caught sight of the troll stomping towards the room where you and Atem were fighting back to back. Mind working fast, Yugi’s wings flared and launched him into the air, courtesy of the building’s high ceilings. As he flew towards you he snatched a thick golden rope from the ground, a curtain accent that had been tossed to the floor in the mayhem.

He saw Atem punch another vampire in the gut, quickly grab the back of his jacket, and toss the man to you. Your hand met with the vampire’s face with a burning grasp, instantly rendering the man helpless as he howled in pain and tried to extinguish the flames across his skin.

Not a moment later however, did the troll make himself known by grunting in disapproval and raising his fists- with both you and Atem within his long reach. Atem made to grab you, likely to pull you out of harm's way but Yugi got their first. With the troll’s arms still lifted for a strike, Yugi flew past, lassoing the fancy rope around the attacker’s wrists.

Just as swiftly, Yugi’s wings carried him down and between the troll’s legs (at least his small size was good for one thing). The troll grunted as his arms were pulled back by the lead of rope now trailing between his own legs.

Yugi landed in front of you and Atem, extended the now short end of the rope and said, “Pull!”

The strength of all three of you combined was enough to pull the giant off balance and he came tumbling down with an earth-shaking thud . You took over from there, pulling a small pouch of something from your jacket and tossing it at the troll. With the flash of a spell, the pouch burst into a fine powder that fell onto the struggling heap of a giant, who quickly ceased all movement.

“My my, bravo!” Called a bright, though almost drawling, voice.

Yugi turned and finally noticed someone else that was apparently completely at home in the chaos. A silver-haired man sat in a fine-looking chair by the upturned table, lazily sipping from a crystal wine glass.

He flashed Yugi an interested smile, “And who might this handsome, young incubus be? Sexy demons, vampires, and werewolves, my my you do keep interesting company these days, my dear magician girl.”

“We need to get out of here,” you snapped, ignoring who Yugi assumed was Pegasus. “He’s sent word to the Circle and they’ll be here any minute.”

“They’re trying to block our only exit,” Atem hissed and Yugi turned to see that he was right, the few remaining lackies that Joey wasn’t fighting off were now blocking the large open window.

“Yugi, if I clear your way do you think you can grab Joey and fly out of here?” you asked.

“What about you and Atem?” he almost snapped back in worry.

“I think I can teleport us out, but Pegasus has seals up that make that difficult, otherwise I’d just teleport all four of us out. I think I can manage with just me and Atem though.”

“So, Yugi, Atem, and Joey,” Pegasus crooned from his seat, “Interesting, I’ll have to keep an eye on all four of you then!”

Obviously the boss had no intentions of getting his hands dirty by trying to stop their group, so Yugi took your lead and ignored him, instead nodding to your plan. That was all the confirmation you needed because you turned to the fey blocking the exit with raised hands.

“Get ready.”

A moment later you pulled your arms back, only to thrust them forward with a shout! Yugi felt an invisible force brush past him, but the few bodyguards by the window got more than a passing breeze. Instead, they were all thrown off their feet, some colliding with the wall, one flying through the broken window, and another flung across the room.

Yugi knew he had to move fast so, though it felt wrong to leave you and Atem behind, he put his trust in you and launched back into the air. Joey had already overpowered the goons he descended on and was looking about the room to figure out what to do next when Yugi called out to him. Joey’s eyes darted up to meet his and the moment Yugi extended his hand, the wolf understood.

The incubus grabbed the hand he held out and flew for the window, heart racing when he saw that some of the henchmen were already getting back to their feet. Joey took care of that however and delivered a swift kick to the head of the demon that made to snatch them out of the air.

The moment they cleared the jagged glass, Yugi shot upward towards the dark sky like a bullet. Once high enough Yugi slowed his ascent and hovered in the air with steady wing beats as he looked down at the ground, searching for any sign of you and Atem, or Circle mages closing in.

“Please be okay,” he whispered to himself.

“Come on!” your call drew Atem’s attention even before you grabbed his hand.

Turning, you tried to make a break for the nearest door, so that you might have some distance between yourself and Pegasus’ henchmen, but the ones by the window were already rising to their feet again. The demon looked absolutely livid as blood from a freshly broken nose streamed down his face. He locked eyes on you and Atem just as you turned to run.

“No!”

Arms wrapped around your waist and with a firm strength, you were thrown to the side. Atem held tight to you as you both crashed through french-style sliding doors, bodies hitting the wood as you collided with the ground.

You shook your head to halt the dizzying sensation, as well as the ache echoing through your body at the hard impact. With a quick glance at Pegasus’ dining room, you saw the burning residue of acid eating away at the wall sconce that likely would have been your head had Atem not thrown you out of the way. Huh, first time you had ever met an acid-spitting demon before.

“Gotta move,” you grunted, pain making the words lame as you tried to jump to your feet.

It would have been impossible with Atem still holding onto you had he not moved at the same time. Again you grabbed his arm as they slid from your waist and you bolted down the narrow hallway you had fallen into. Using the same spell that had knocked the cronies off their feet, you blew open the other door at the end of the hallway, and the moment you were on the other side, Atem slammed it back shut.

With a jerk on the arm you were holding, you made Atem face you. “This is going to be uncomfortable,” you warned before grabbing his other hand and closing your eyes.

Pegasus’ seals were weak, but they still made the task of teleporting out of the building quite taxing on your already depleted energy. With careful patience, you pushed through the blockages, feeling for the weak spot in the magic, like a light breaking through rubble. The moment you found it you cast your spell and the both of you were zapped out of Pegasus’ reach.

Now, to be technical, you weren’t exactly sure what it felt like to be shrunken down and stuffed into a tube that was still two sizes too small for your body, but, if you had to take a guess, you would assume the sensation was similar to the turmoil of teleporting. The fact that you had to push past the vampire’s seals only made the uncomfortable journey twice as torturous. A second later you found yourself stumbling across tarry ground, ankles aching from the hard, sudden contact. Unfortunately, Atem had less experience with the sensation than you did and tumbled to the ground, his still firm grip on you taking you down with him.

You lay there for a moment as you caught your breath, but Atem quickly sat up on his elbow and looked you over. “Are you alright?”

“F-fine,” you panted, “told you I’d let you know when things went south.”

He let out a huff of laughter, “Indeed.”

After waiting a beat, he got to his feet and held his hand out to you. You took the offer and let him pull you to your feet as his eyes scanned your new surroundings. You had landed them on the roof of a bookshop/apartment a good block and a half from Pegasus’ club. Close enough to regroup with Yugi and Joey, but far enough that you could hopefully avoid being spotted by any approaching magicians.

Speaking of, before Atem was even done scanning the rooftop, you heard your name called through the air, succeeded by Atem’s name a beat later. You both looked up to see Yugi soaring through the air, Joey dangling from his hands. The moment he was over the roof, Joey let go and stuck his landing, Yugi dropping down right beside him.

“Are you two okay?” the incubus asked, eyes looking over your face. You realized there might be a fresh bruise or two forming there, judging by the concern on his face and the pain that was getting harder to ignore as the rush of the fight fizzled out.

“I’m fine,” you assured, the words sounding more flat than you meant as you looked over at Atem. Of course he was fine, any injury sustained in there, against other vampires, would have healed by now.

“So, you find out anything before Peggy ratted you out to the circle?” Joey asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You nodded, “Pegasus likes to talk, and he was doing just that while trying to stall me, hoping I wouldn’t notice. He said that he actually met with one of Marik’s followers, who he assumed is close to Marik. Even gave me an accurate description we may be able to use.”

“And you believe he was actually telling the truth?” Atem asked, “He could have made up anything to keep your attention.”

“True, but, I don’t think he was lying. I’ve seen him lie before and he knows I’m trained to sense deception. He would have tipped his hand to me quicker if he risked lying.” You let out a sigh, trying to remind yourself that, though both leads had turned into trials that day, you were at least getting small pieces of the Marik puzzle. “Anyway, we need to get moving, the Circle’s Magicians are likely already here and it won’t take them long to start searching the area for us.”

“Do you want to head back home?” Yugi asked as you all made your way to the fire escape.

You hesitated for a moment. The night was still young, and, given how agitated Atem still seemed, it might be nice to get at least one inch closer in your search. “Actually, if you’re up for it, there’s one more place I want to hit up. But I promise it’s less likely to end in a fight.”

As you started down the grated steps, Atem looked over his shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at you. “A more trusted informant? Or just a less violent one?”

“Neither, really. You remember me saying I have a friend who owns a bar?”

Clubs and bars that catered to all brands of fey were scattered across the city, more commonly than one might think. Much like Pegasus’ haven, they mostly hid in plain sight, relying on word of mouth to gather patrons and a bouncer at the door to keep any unsuspecting humans from wandering in. They also did their best to keep under the radar of the Circle, thanks to common dealings that were less than legal. You supposed in many ways, they could be compared to the speakeasies of the prohibition era.

Thankfully, Mai’s place had no such reputation and she always made sure her patrons took their questionable acts elsewhere. That, paired with the fact that Mai had far more loyalty to you than the Circle, made you pretty confident that her pub was more than safe from unwanted magician company.

“I texted the address to Anzu, she says she’ll be here soon,” Yugi said, stuffing his phone back in his pocket as your small group walked. After telling him that Mai would probably insist on all of you eating there, he had wanted to invite Anzu to join them, not only to update her on what the four of you had found out, but likely just to have a friendly meal together. End the day on a happier note, so to speak.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a burger or two!” Joey yawned as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Don’t worry, Mai’s cook makes some good burgers,” you assured lightly, even as your well-trained eyes kept alert on the darkened streets. “Not as good as Yugi’s but…” you shrugged as you trailed off, but did not miss the way Yugi gave a small, proud smile as he averted his eyes to the ground.

Though the night was young there weren’t many wanderers in this part of the city. It wasn’t a high-end neighborhood in the slightest, but it wasn’t a city slum like where Bonz lived, instead hovering somewhere safely in the middle. The low traffic streets also made putting your nerves at ease simpler. Knowing that you and your companions had escaped capture from the Circle so easily had put you on edge and it was hard to calm that down. Though you had been careful to take every precaution while sneaking away from Pegasus’ domain, it still felt too...simple. Too lucky.

You nearly jumped when you felt a gentle hand on your back and turned to meet Atem’s eyes. They were full of concern as he said, “What’s wrong?”

You looked back for a moment, then averted your gaze. “Nothing. Just on edge.” Thankfully, the turn that would lead to your destination was within reach a beat later. “Mai’s place is just around this corner.”

Atem’s eyes glanced in the direction you were pointing but obviously knew that you were just trying to change the subject as he didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Still, he let the topic drop, at least for now, as you picked up the pace just a bit and turned the corner.

It was a wide alleyway, almost completely devoid of any trash or litter thanks to Mai’s perfectionism and desire to look like a respectable establishment. The only indicator that there was an establishment there at all, was the modified neon sign hanging above a stairway that dipped into the ground, leading to the basement level. The sign, that almost looked more fitting to psychic's shop, read ‘Harpie’s Fortune’ with a mystic eye placed between the two words.

The boys followed as you jogged down the stairs and you four barely fit at the bottom, having to wait a moment as you knocked on the door. A more pleasant face than the one at Pegasus’s club met you when the door’s window slid open.

“Hey, Honda, I need to speak to Mai,” you informed, almost interrupted by a loud growl coming from Joey’s stomach. “...And I need to get my friends some food.”

You almost laughed with the amendment, but the bouncer actually did as he unlocked the door. “Sure thing!” Honda, a tall muscly gorgon demon, swung the door open and stepped aside, waving the four of you in. “You should take the booth at the back, I’ll let Mai know you’re here.”

“Thanks, Honda. We have another friend coming, cute brunette named Anzu-”

“Oh, yeah, I know her! She’s a regular on ladies night,” the gorgon cut in, “I’ll show her to your table when she gets here,” his assurance was paired with a flash of a smile, one that almost hid his fangs and you actually returned it as you and your friends stepped inside.

When he shut the door behind Joey, Honda started skirting his way around the tables to the back room where Mai’s office was. It wasn’t a lavish, decadent place like the one downtown, but the pub had a laid back, relaxed air. A simple but clean (Mai’s work, once again) bar complete with a line of stools that were almost always packed. Tables filled the center of the room, plain wood and metal but comfortable enough for an after-work drink. Booths with faded red upholstery and more wooden tables lined the walls for maximum occupancy. Top it off with a few TVs hung high, some cityscape pictures on the brick walls and good- though greasy, food and you had yourself a cozy bar for folks who were just looking to relax.

It wasn’t a horribly busy night, only half or so of the seats filled, but it was packed enough for Mai’s liking for sure. Usually you opted to sit at the bar where Mai would easily spot you...and decipher your mood from afar in order to whip up a drink accordingly- but that was beside the point. Tonight however, you took Honda’s advice and wove towards a booth in the corner, one of the longer ones that would accommodate your group as well as give privacy.

An oni demon leaning against the bar called your name in a passing greeting, flexing his arm before laughing to himself. When Joey turned to you with an interested eyebrow raise you scratched the back of your neck. “It’s a reference to the time I beat him in an arm wrestling match. Got the whole bar into a debate on whether or not magic should be allowed to counter his natural strength,” you explained, in a light tone.

“Hope it didn’t end in a bar fight,” Yugi said, clearly amused.

“Nah, he was actually a good sport about it. Believe me, if he wasn’t Mai would have made him regret it.”

You almost went on, recalling the very few other times you had actually been sociable at the bar, but Atem chose that moment to cut in, his eyes scanning the venue with a wary kind of caution.

“There are humans here.”

Indeed, a quick once over of the place revealed, to a keen eye, that there were at least four humans scattered around. One was curled up in the arms of a dryad, the couple lounging in a booth, looking sleepy but perfectly content as they cuddled. Another was playing a hand of poker with a pair of werewolves, a siren, and a vampire, complaining that he was losing hand-over-fist with a teasing and jovial air. Two others were sitting at the bar with three female demons of varying races, dressed as if starting a night out on the town.

“Yup,” you said in answer. “Most clubs like this aren’t safe for humans to visit, but Mai makes sure that humans who know about the fey world are welcomed here and aren’t given any trouble. Makes it a particularly popular spot for...I guess you’d call them, interracial couples?” Your eyes lingered on the couple in the booth, as the dryad leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead.

Atem followed your gaze and for a second you thought he might smile at the tender scene, but a stony look remained firm on his face. “There was a human at Pegasus’s club as well,” he started in a flat tone, slowing his pace as you neared the corner booth. “He was with an older vampire and looked half dazed. Does Mai condone vampires and other monsters entrapping unsuspecting humans?”

The bite in his tone actually stung a little, though it was hard to decipher if it was directed at you or not. “No, she doesn’t. The few times she’s seen a...suspicious couple, she’s always called me to look into it.”

A thought crossed your mind with that. It wouldn’t surprise you if Atem was truly mad over how such partnerships were handled by the circle, considering the one at Peggy’s club likely wouldn’t even receive a slap on the wrist for his questionable partnership with the dazed human. It wasn’t illegal for a vampire or other fey to feed on humans, so long as said human signed a contract with the fey, consenting to anything that might be done to them and so long as it didn’t end in a dead human. Unfortunately, whether the human was in a healthy enough state to sign that contract was usually a sticky gray area. Drug addicts and the mentally unsound were often targeted for toxic or downright abusive pairings.

You were about to say something more on the topic, especially since Yugi was looking uneasy at the darkening mood, but just as you opened your mouth, something grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Some one , you amended, as a familiar voice called your name, and you were pulled into a leather and lace-clad chest.

“You haven’t visited little o’ me in forever,” Mai said, tone cheerful as she continued to embrace you with surprising strength. “And you brought friends!”

“Hi, Mai,” you greeted, tone a little awkward as you reached up and patted her on the back, the other arm hanging by your side uselessly.

After another squeeze she released you, letting you get a healthy amount of air back in your lungs. Mai was as stunning as ever, blonde curls styled to perfection, makeup bold but suited to her daring nature, and corset top matching perfectly with her ripped jeans and lace-up boots. When you turned to introduce the boys to her, you saw that Joey was staring, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape at your friend.

You flashed him a knowing smirk before moving the moment along, “Mai, this is Joey, Yugi, and Atem.”

“Oooh,” Mai cooed, “Look at you, running with wolves, vampires, and cute little incubi.” She winked over at you when Yugi blushed at the comment, but quickly added, “Welcome to Harpie’s Fortune boys, if my favorite mage says you’re good, then you’re welcome here.” She put a hand on your back then and started guiding you the last few feet to the corner booth, her tone lowering as she addressed you. “But something tells me you aren’t here for a drink or two. You’ve got that look in your eye, girly.”

“You know me too well,” you signed as you started scooting into the seat.

Before she could answer, Mai’s attention snapped back to the middle of the room and she raised her hand in a wave. “Anzu! It’s not often you drop by on a night that isn’t ladies night.”

“Hey, Mai,” the white witch greeted as she neared your table. She had gotten there quick. “I’m actually here with these guys tonight.”

“Oh?” Mai flashed her eyes back to you, “You never told me you knew Anzu.”

“We just met today actucally, through them,” you waved your hand at Yugi and Atem, who had taken the two spaces beside you, leaving Joey and Anzu to sit on the other side.

“Hm, small city then.”

When the five of you had settled down in the booth, Mai waved over her waitress and told your group to order so you could get down to business. After placing your order the waitress scurried off to the kitchen and Mai grabbed a chair from the empty neighboring table, scooting it to the head of your booth and plopping down.

“Now, what can I help you with, hm?” the blond asked.

Everyone else leaned in, considering you hadn’t relayed exactly what Pegasus had told you, and Anzu was a bit behind on everything that had been uncovered that day.

“I may have a lead on Marik,” you started, tone low enough not to carry far. “Rumor is that his followers have been picking up humans off the streets and something we found today says that he drains all of them not only for food but also in an effort to turn them so he can gain followers.

Mai sighed, “Thank explains how he’s kept his body dumps down to a minimum. And the cops around here write their deaths off as overdoses or muggings gone wrong. Still no idea where he picks these poor souls up?”

“Not really, but I think I have a description of one of his closer cronies, one that might be doing a lot of the victim picking. We’re hoping that if we find him, we’ll find Marik. Have you seen or heard of a vampire hanging around, tall, well built, tan skin, and tattoos of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs on his face?”

Mai raised an eyebrow, “That’s a rather distinct man right there, and unfortunately, no, I haven’t seen or heard of anyone fitting that description. But now that I know you’re looking, I’ll keep an eye out, Honda will, too.” She leaned back in her chair, actually looking a bit concerned now. “I’ll ask some of my regulars if they’ve seen any vamps creeping on humans. Usually they mention that stuff to me anyway because they know I’ll pass it on to you, but, you never know.”

You nodded and despite the fact that your lead had come to a halt, you were hopeful. You knew that Mai’s personal history with ‘creepy’ vampires would make her take this threat and her promise seriously. “Thanks, we’d appreciate that.”

Mai nodded, then got up from her seat. “No problem. There’s something else I needed to talk to you about, though.”

She waved her hand as she started towards the bar and, after casting a look to the others at the booth, moved to get up and followed her. Atem and Yugi had to move out of your way and Yugi looked as though he wanted to ask what was up. In contrast, Atem’s eyes narrowed a little and you wondered if he had wanted to say something regarding your leads before Mai left, but you figured that Mai had purposely cut the conversation short with that in mind.

Through the crowds you wove, until Mai slipped behind the bar, leaving you to lean against the support beam nearby. She took a folded up piece of notepaper out from under the old landline phone and returned to you.

“About an hour ago, that creepy ghoul contact of yours called. He said to tell you that he has some info you’d want to hear and to meet him at the old parkway apartment building.” She handed you the paper, with the address and date scrawled across it in Mai’s neat handwriting. “I didn’t want to mention it in front of your friends,” she continued, arms crossed. “Didn’t know how much they were meant to know or...” her voice trailed off then, an odd occurrence for the confident Mai who always had something to say.

You looked up and met her eyes, wondering if she was recalling the last time a creeper vampire picked a human up off the streets. “Thanks, Mai. With any luck, he’ll have something that’ll help us catch Marik. And don’t worry, we will catch him.”

That confident smile was back on Mai’s face in an instant, though you couldn’t tell if it was her typical mask or not. “I’m not worried, there’s a reason you’re the only magician I trust, you know.”

“And as for them,” you threw a look back at the booth where your new friends were still seated, “Anything you want to pass on to me, you can tell them. Especially Yugi and Atem.”

Mai got a very...interested look on her face then. “Ooh, what’s this? My girl saying things like ‘we’ and sharing all her secret contacts with friends. And here I always thought you were a lone wolf type!”

A sudden nervous air filled your chest and you found yourself looking away. “They’re just helping me with the Marik case, that’s all.”

When Mai gave an unconvinced hum you scoffed and turned to walk back to your booth without another word, hearing her chuckle to herself as you went. It didn’t take long to reach the table and scoot back into your spot beside Yugi and Atem, taking in their curious but silent gazes.

“She had a message for me from Bonz, I’ll be meeting him tomorrow night for some information.”

Yugi smiled, hopeful and positive, “That’s good, maybe with what we found out tonight, it’ll be something good!”

“Maybe…” you trailed off, looking at the pressed wood of the table with unfocused eyes as you thought.

After a minute, Atem’s deep voice brought you out of said musings. “You didn’t mention that Mai herself is a human. I’m surprised she would own a place like this.”

You almost smirked at that. Most were shocked, to say the least when they saw a young human girl catering to demons and mythical creatures. “Yup. There’s a reason she’s so serious about making sure humans are safe here, and that none of her customers cause any trouble.”

“Speaking of,” Anzu said with an annoyed huff, and nodded her head back towards the bar.

When you all turned that direction, you saw that a minotaur was jumping up from his barstool and glowering down at one of the wolves who had been playing poker just minutes ago.

“How about I beat in that muzzle of yours, mutt!” the minotaur snarled as the werewolf looked up at him with a bored expression.

“Hey!” Mai’s firm and icy voice cut above the shorter man’s snapping comeback and she leaned against the bar, glaring at the two patrons. “You both know the rules, take it outside, or can it all together!”

“I don’t take orders from scrawny ass humans like you,” the minotaur barely gave Mai a glance as he growled, which only served to anger the blonde even more.

“That’s it, out you go, walking or tossed out, I don’t care which.”

When the beast actually turned his attention fully on Mai, Joey and Atem both jumped up from their seats. “She’s gonna get herself killed!” Joey hissed.

You gave your new friend’s shin a firm kick and Atem an almost disinterested look. “Sit down, Mai can handle herself. She doesn’t need any knights to swoop in and save her. And even if she did, about a dozen others would beat you to it.”

Indeed, more than ten other patrons had gotten to their feet at the sign of a brewing fight, but they, much like Honda by the door, waited, hanging back and only ready to step in if needed. Cultivate the right kind of customers, and you get the right kind of loyalty.

Just as you said, though, Mai was seasoned at dealing with troublemakers three times her size and strength. The moment the minotaur started spewing a threat at her directly, she rolled her eyes and pulled something out from under the bar.

Mai hefted the giant and already loaded crossbow in her hands, aiming it right at the aggressor's throat. “Because I really don’t like cleaning blood off my bar I’ll say it one more time. Out. Now. Or my iron-tipped friend here will give you a new piercing to go with that gaudy nose ring.”

With a new wariness to his gaze, the minotaur eyed the tip of the arrow, cautious considering his kind were quite vulnerable to iron. Then he let out a snarl through his nose and gave the werewolf a hard shove to move out of his way as he turned. “Eh you ain’t worth killing, this place is trash anyway.”

Mai kept her weapon trained on the man’s back as Honda opened the door and waved him out with a mocking gesture. Just like that, the crisis was averted, like usual and everyone settled back down to their drinks and food as if nothing had happened. When Joey and Atem gave each other confused looks you actually let out a laugh, which Anzu and Yugi quickly joined.

Oh yes, Mai could take care of herself indeed.

***

“So, if my understanding is correct, you and your entire staff could not hold her for the twelve minutes it took us to get here?”

“Well there’s no need to be so snarky,” Pegasus sighed, eyeing the tall magician with a mane of long flowing hair to rival his own.

The vampire’s staff (or at least the few who could still walk) had barely started sweeping up the mess you had left behind. Windows and doors busted, tables left charred and upturned, glass everywhere- to put it short, the vampire lord’s club, was a mess.

“You underestimated her, did you?” Mana asked in a singsong tone. Then, when she saw a vampire who was healing from a nasty gash in his throat help a troll untangle himself from a fancy rope, she actually giggled.

Mahad threw her a scolding look and she quickly stifled her laughter, straightening her posture to something more professional. “Is there anything else you can tell us?” Mahad asked the vampire.

“Yes, she was with three young fey, they helped her best my bodyguards.” He cast a look around his demolished dining room. “Though I’m certain she would have managed to escape without them. Your kind trained her well.”

Mahad narrowed his eyes at the smiling tone in the vampire’s last words and found himself wondering if Pegasus really had tried his hardest to detain you. The old vampire had always been a bit...chaotic, and it wouldn’t surprise Mahad if he only half tried to capture you, just to see how the rest played out for his own amusement.

“Yes, they did train her well,” Mahad answered.

“Good thing they trained me even better,” came a new voice brimming with condescension.

The magicians and vampire turned to see two more men approaching through the broken dining room doors. Mahad felt an anxious heat crawl across his skin as the newcomers examined the scene.

“What are you two doing here?” Mana snapped at them.

The cocky one of the two, the one who had spoken, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and leisurely lit one before answering. “We’re here to take over the hunt, of course.” He took a long drag, then blew the smoke out in a long breath, aiming it straight for Mana’s displeased face. “Council says you two are too...friendly with the target,” a nasty smile crossed his lip then, “so we’re going to hunt her down instead.”

Before Mana or Mahad could reply, Pegasus let out a loud, bellowing laugh. “You two? You’ve got to be kidding me!” As if for dramatic effect, the vampire pressed his hand to his forehead, still laughing, “Oh, she’s going to eat you two boys alive!”

“Shut it, prissy boy!” the cocky magician snapped, sadistic smirk now twisted into a scowl.

“Young man, do you realize how many vampires and demons of all variety I employ, hm?” Pegasus said in a mocking tone.

“Oh, we know,” the second of the two finally spoke, “that’s why they sent us- well, me at least,” he threw a raised eyebrow at his partner before shrugging. Then, his eyes scanned a scorched wall as he let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Knew she wouldn’t have trouble escaping, tore the place up pretty good too.” He gave an admiring sigh, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind his ear. “Such a badass, I swear I’m in love with that girl.”

“You shut it too, pretty boy,” his partner growled, then turned back to Mahad and Mana. “The Council's put us in charge of this, so just stay the hell outta my way, got it?”

Mana bristled at the demand, fists clenching as she made to step forward- but Mahad extended a hand to stop her. She didn’t miss the way her master’s jaw clenched as he replied to the two men.

“If that is what the Council wishes, then we will not argue,” Mahad said in a tone devoid of any emotion. “Do you wish to hear what we’ve already found?”

The cocky one’s smirk was back as he took another drag of his cigarette. “Don’t bother.” He stepped away then, purposely turning his back on the master and apprentice as he unsheathed his silver dagger and ran his thumb along the flat of the blade. “We’ve got other ways of hunting her down.”

[bucky-iss-bae]

Reminiscences - Peter Hale x OFC (Part 1)

Soo... my blog has been a bit dire at the moment, I do apologise, I need to post a few new one-shots and plan on cooking up another nice multiple part fic soon. 

Gonna be posting more soon hopefully, but for now, here’s my new Peter Hale fic, hope you guys enjoy it xoxo 

Fandom: Teen Wolf 

Pairing: Peter Hale x OFC (Calla) 

Word Count: 1303 

Warnings: None - Slow Start I guess 

Summary: Calla has grown up as Derek's best friend, she’s known the Hales her whole life,she’s known their secrets and everything in Beacon Hills. Things in Beacon Hills are quiet, the pack are a family, and Calla realises that Peter knows more of her secrets than she realises. 

A/N: Hope you all enjoy, any feedback is welcome x

Masterlist Fandom List

Reminiscences - Part 1 

I had no idea what I was doing here in all honesty, the only reason I turned up to these pack gatherings or meetings were just so everyone was on the same page, making sure no one knew of anything or anyone that was around, more specifically anything because this place has an attraction to all the supernatural out there, and not everything is as friendly as those who are around me. Well some of them. Others, maybe not as much, for other reasons than being the big bad of beacon hills.

Everyone was sat basically together, and I must say, Scott took on the role as an Alpha as smoothly as an 18 year old could. From what I’ve seen in my past, being an Alpha is not easy, watching as my best friend’s mother was the Alpha of her pack, a very successful pack at that until murderers got involved, she worked hard in order to gain alliances alongside other creatures of the night, as well as other hunters if possible.

But Scott learnt a lot from Derek, he learnt from the mistakes Derek made, and the truth behind the power, he learnt from Deaton. Someone who knew probably the most secrets Talia held. And then he created his own knowledge alongside his best friend Stiles Stilinski. And watching them with the future generation of protectors, reminded me of when I was younger, watching as similar scenes in front of me took place but a different generation of people.

But being a human came at its advantages and disadvantages. Being childhood best friends with Derek, and actually staying in Beacon Hills overtime gave me the opportunity to learn and protect myself to an extent. Not completely, obviously. But it meant I could get away with learning a lot more without my scent being caught on as a supernatural, as well as helping the town when there was an unsolved animal attack. Or something along those lines.

Now there’s these guys to do all of that, I just sit aside, make sure I’m there for them when they need it, and other than that carry on with my life. I mean there are times when I have to fill them in on things that unknowingly happened during Derek’s time away, and well before everyone else was turned. And if anything is about to happen, I always want to know, and make sure whatever is happening keeps everyone safe. But other than that, I guess I could be the normal one around.

“You good Calla?” Derek asked coming to sit beside me.

I nodded turning my head towards him, “Tired from work. As per usual, you good?”

He carelessly shrugged but sat back against the couch with me. Everyone else was scattered around the room, eating, talking, laughing. It was nice, nice knowing this is as close to a good family I’ll probably ever get. And I love each and every one of them for it.  

“How’s work going? Although I still don’t see the reason why you need to work”

“Work is good Der. I get good money, it keeps me occupied, and this way I’m not relying on my inheritance, that’s out the way, only there when I need it”

“But you’re always tired from work think about that” He pointed out.

I nodded, “Yeah, because I work hard. But at least I only work four days a week, I have three days to rest although they don’t usually go towards resting, instead...” I said looking around  

“Instead its helping the kids” He looked at me with a small smirk and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fucks sake Derek. You’re a loser you know that right. And one of these days I’m going to go home after work, order myself a pizza and not talk to anyone, you bet I’ll put my phone on do not Disturb”

“You do that at least once a week anyway. You literally text me saying ‘either join me or ignore me’.”

“Yet you always ignore me Der. I’m heartbroken”

He grinned, “Figured you need time to yourself considering most your free time is taken up with me”

“Derek, I literally went years without seeing you, but as soon as you got back we fell into things again, so let’s so trust me when I say, you’ll know when I get sick of you”

He grinned, “That mean next pizza night pizza is on me?”

“Thursday nights, and you know it”

“You two setting up your next date?” Peter drawled as he came to sit in between us causing me to put my feet down and for Derek to change his position slightly.

Peter Hale. A guy I knew growing up, although back then he was more like one of Derek’s brothers rather than an uncle, now so much had changed. Since the fire, since those years spent in hospital so much changed.

The worst thing is, I knew no one was there for him when he was in hospital, all his family had died and he was burned alive, and considering I was the only one who knew Peter as Peter Hale, the guy who used to love basketball, or be an absolute douche bag, I visited him, every week. I knew he wouldn’t respond but that didn’t stop me from talking to him, telling him about my life, what was new, what wasn’t.

And still to this day, I haven’t bought it up, nor has he, so for that I’m hoping he doesn’t remember. The only time I thought he might’ve was when he was a murderous, psychotic Alpha, I was in the line of fire, he had an opportunity to kill me, but although I didn’t know at the time, it’s more like he recognized me, saw me, and spared me. And it didn’t help I went to complain to him and have a heart to heart with him the following day, about the big bad alpha. Not Peter himself.

“Something like that” I said to Peter, “Why, you jealous”

“Should I be?”

“You tell me Peter you’re the one who’s so curious over something that’s not happening, nor none of your business”

He just shook his head a small smirk on his lips, “You two never change, do you?”

“Could say that same about you” I said back to him.

He shrugged, “No, considering I was sat in a hospital room for 5 years. There’s not much that can change about a person” He had a look in his eye. Something he often done, like he was trying to tell me something but I ignored it instead. I rather not play his games. Because despite how close I got to him over the years, and despite what our friendship was like before... it won’t be the same. He’s different. He has ulterior motives or so I believe he does.

“Do you even remember those years?” I blurted out. Probably out of frustration. But I sure as hell hope not.

I mentally cursed myself as soon as I said that, but his smirk told me everything I needed to know.

“Right... well I’m going to get going now. Derek I’ll see you later” I said to him trying to avoid a conversation I didn’t want to have.

He rose his eyebrows but nodded and got up with me. “anyone need a lift home?” I asked all the kids. Completely ignoring Peters gaze hitting my head.

“I do actually” He said from behind me.

I rolled my eyes, “You have your own car. A lot more expensive than anyone else’s as you keep reminding everyone.” I said to him, a few seconds later Liam asked if I could drop him off which I happily obliged to. The kid is basically my little brother.

Peter Hale x OFC - Reminiscences Part 2 

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed xoxo 

[thewnchstrs]

A Very Supernatural Thanksgiving

Pairing: ClaireXReader, WinchesterSister!reader

Disclaimers: mentions of sex, crying, awkward Thanksgiving dinner

Word Count: 1.5K 

A/N: What’s Thanksgiving without coming out to your family and then getting the sex talk

M A S T E R L I S T

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“You know, I think having my brothers and I stay for the week has been the best idea Jody’s ever had,” I smiled as Claire and I wandered down the streets, my hands stuffed in my pockets as we walked in time with each other.

“Yeah,” Claire nodded, smiling to herself as we shared a glance, feeling myself blush as I looked back down at my shoes. 

I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. The way I felt around Claire...it was unlike the way I’d felt around anyone before. I never felt like I had to be someone else around her, it didn’t matter who I was, she took me as I came.

“I have to say something-” we both said in unison, laughing as we shook our heads, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk as we looked at each other now, my heart rapidly pounding.

“You go first,” She said, nudging my arm lightly. 

I bit my lip, sighing deeply as I smiled despite myself, shaking my head, “Claire, I- this week has been great, and I- god, I wish I know how to get this out.” I looked up at her, her wind-bitten nose glowing red as she smiled, running her hands down my arms as she gripped my hands. My eyes flickered up to hers, “I...I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Claire laughed lightly, squeezing my hands in hers as she nodded, “Me too.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she beamed. I swallowed roughly, my eyes darting from hers down to her soft, pink lips and back up to her eyes. Slowly, slower than ever, we leaned in towards each other until our lips met in the softest way, just barely touching. 

I closed my eyes, pulling her closer as I ran a hand through her long hair. When we pulled away, my eyes lingered closed, relishing in the moment until I opened them again, a smile playing at both of our lips.

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“Oh, this bird is fantastic,” Dean moaned as he shoved a forkful of turkey into his mouth. Jody raised her eyebrows at him as he motioned to the plate dramatically, “best Thanksgiving dinner ever.”

“Only Thanksgiving dinner,” I corrected, shoveling more potatoes onto my plate as Claire laughed at me, shaking her head.

“Y/N-” Sam complained as I returned the spoon to the bowl.

“There’s plenty left!”

“She’s right, there’s about four pounds on the stove,” Jody said, motioning to the kitchen with a nod of her head. “So, you three been keeping yourselves busy?” she asked Sam, Dean and I, taking a sip from her wine glass.

“Oh yeah, real busy,” Dean nodded as he choked down a spoonful of beans, “if you thought things were bat shit crazy before.” he said, shaking his head slightly.

“What about you guys?” Sam asked, pulling a dinner roll apart, “You guys still hunting?”

“Can we stop talking about monsters and hunting?” Alex asked, the three of us raising our eyebrows slightly at her, “What about real life?”

“Real life?” Claire asked, smirking to me, before turning back to Alex, “Okay. Yeah, sure. Let’s get real. You and Henry settle on a weekend yet?”

“What?”

“When you’re sneaking out to Jody’s cabin to screw yourselves silly.”

Alex’s mouth fell open as I choked slightly on my food, Sam and Dean setting their forks down, “Here we go.”

Jody’s fork was stopped halfway to her mouth, a piece of turkey stuck to the end of it. Alex looked between Jody and Claire, “We’re not...you’re completely insane.”

“You might want to clear you g-chats before you commit to that.”

“Yeah?” Alex shot back, “Well what about you and Y/N, huh?”

My heart instantly stopped, my hand gripped around the glass of water in my hand as Claire went on per usual, acting as if nothing were wrong. I felt the eyes of Sam, Dean and Jody on us now, “What about Y/N and I?”

“I saw you two walking outside earlier- pretty sure the whole neighborhood could see you two making out in the middle of the street.”

All movements in the room seemed to stop, my eyes trained on my plate in front of me as Claire slowly set her glass down. The realization of what she’d said hitting Alex suddenly when she was quick to apologize, “I- I’m sorry, I...I thought they knew.”

I gripped the edges of the table, not even able to look up at my brothers as I pushed the chair back, “Excuse me.���

Throwing my napkin down onto the table, I nearly sprinted through the living room before pulling the front door open, gulping down the fresh air as I carefully lowered myself down onto the porch steps, my knees feeling as if they were going to give out from under me. My hands shook and my heart raced as what just happened ran laps around my brain.

I held my knees close to my chest, closing my eyes, trying to soothe my racing heart when the front door opened behind me, two sets of feet creaking against the wood porch.

I quickly wiped away at my cheeks, looking off down the road as Sam and Dean came and sat on the stairs next to me. We sat silently for what felt like an eternity before Sam spoke up, “It’s okay, you know? To love who you love...you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

I bit my lip, looking down at my knees now, unable to keep the tears at bay. A long arm stretched over my shoulders as Dean brought me in close to him, running a soothing hand up and down my arm, “We’re still gonna love you, kiddo. No matter what, alright? We go through too much crap to let something like this tear us apart.”

I nodded slowly, sitting back up, Dean’s hand coming back to rest in his lap, “I was going to tell you...we were, but, I just didn’t know how.”

Sam and Dean nodded, “So how long you been into chicks?” Dean asked, making me laugh as I wiped my tears away. 

I shrugged, “Remember that hunter we ran into on a case a few years ago?”

“Michelle?” Dean asked, eyebrows cinched together, but I shook my head. That definitely wasn’t her, “Jennifer? Sarah? Brittany?” he listed off, probably ticking off all the women he’d ever come in contact with before I snapped my fingers.

“Julia!”

Dean’s face spread into a wide smile as he nodded, immediately recognizing the name, “Julia. Yeah, I can see that.”

Sam rolled his eyes, smirking nonetheless, “What do you say we go back inside, huh? Properly introduce us to your girlfriend.”

I smiled, nodding as we came back inside, taking our seats back at the dinner table where Alex profusely apologized, but I waved her off, “It’s really okay Alex,” I smiled as I took Claire’s hand in mine, smiling to Sam and Dean. 

“Sam, Dean,” I nodded each of them, “this is my lovely, beautiful, strong, girlfriend, Claire.”

Sam, Dean, Jody and Alex smiled as I sat back down, squeezing Claire’s hand.

“You know, Claire,” Dean said, drinking from his wine glass, “Sammy and I made a vow to always interrogate Y/N’s dates,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her before smiling softly, “but I think she picked a good one.”

Sam smiled as he nodded, agreeing with Dean. My eyes traveled over to Jody who was smiling, too, “I’d say Claire didn’t pick half bad, either...But,” she began, eyeing myself, Claire and Alex. “That doesn’t mean our talk is going undiscussed.”

I felt my eyes widen slightly as I slunk down against the chair I was sitting in, knowing exactly what kind of talk she was referring to, the tension in the room becoming tense.

“Oh, please no-”

“Hey, if we can’t talk about it, we shouldn’t be doing it, right?” Jody said, looking to Sam and Dean who sat silent, staring at her wide eyed, completely unsure of what to say. Jody sighed, realizing neither of them would be of any help as she clasped her hands together under her chin, “Okay, I’m not gonna tell you that you are too young to be having sex, or you two for that matter.” She said, motioning to Claire and I, “What I will tell you is that birth control pills are useless against STDs, in men or women! Whoever you are with needs to suit up every time, always. No...pulling up the drawbridge early-”

“Okay! I get it!” Alex nearly shouted, covering her ears.

I pushed my plate back, no longer having an appetite after our talk. I watched as Jody, Sam and Dean all downed their wine quickly before pouring themselves another glass in order to forget everything Jody had just explained, “I’m so glad I’m gay.”

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Forever Tag List

@spnbaby-67 | @octo-cow52​ | @wholelottajackles | @luciferslucille | @anti-social-club | @search-bar​ | @winchesternco | @mellorine-paprika​ | @thepocketshoelace | @jaremish | @the-salty-asian​ | @chelsea072498 | @the-hufflepuff-hunter​ | @robynannemackenzie-blog​ | @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ | @lilreethi | @find-sammys-shoe​

Winchester Sister Tag List

@resanoona​ | @mccartneywinchester​ | @bunnyandy12​ | @shes-absolutely-smitten​

All tag lists are OPEN!

[ask-flip-frost]

~Course 2: Sir Slope~

A giant splash resounded, echoing in the vast cavern lit by large, glowing lavender orbs. Most, if not all, of the summoned students and sit-ins flashed into place just above an underground pool. It wasn’t terribly deep, but surely it came as a slightly chilly shock. Those prepared for surprises might have saved themselves from a dip, but many Sprites were cursing in ancient tongues as they swam for dry stone land. Ember and Ash Sprites spluttered like angry cats and shook themselves free of the moisture, steaming and fizzing. A River Sprite giggled quietly as she wrung out her hair. She didn’t seem bothered.

“Was that part of the test???” one of the Fire elements demanded of a Moon Sprite who stood calmly on the shore.

“Mm? Oh… uh. Sure, why not?” he shrugged, adjusting his dark sunglasses, completely unperturbed.

This Hunter was dressed a bit peculiarly, even for a Fairy. He wore a shirt with one long sleeve and one short sleeve, a pair of pants made completely out of pockets, roughly thirty time pieces on the short-sleeved arm, and a pair of plush penguin slippers. He gave no other explanation of the probably-not-a-test, waiting patiently for everyone to come up and have a seat on some mossy rocks. For several moments, silence stretched on… right up until a wrist watch buzzed and startled him, causing a quiet waking snort. He’d fallen asleep.

“Right, where were we?” he yawned.

“We haven’t started.” the Love Sprite answered gently.

“Ah. Yeah. Time to get on with it, then, innit? I’m Slope, an I will be your, uh… yeah, the one up front. You were all supposed to read summin, so I hope you did.”

Slope stretched his arms out, waking up properly, and reached back to tighten his navy colored ponytail. He then reached down to touch the ground with a single finger, lighting up a huge, bright pink sigil on the stony floor. It glowed steadily when he returned to a stand.

“Humans inna circle. Don’t leave it for anyfing. You’re jus here to watch, yeah?” he advised with a tired sniff. “No causing trouble or, uh… I dunno. I’ll prolly eat your brains or summin. I dun want to, so dun make me.”

He shuffled out of the circle, penguin slippers squeaking softly, and waved the recruits in close. One by one, he pointed out slumbering Humans lying on sleeping bags spread out in the cavern. With orbs shining bright, it was easy to see how peaceful they all were for the time being. All seemed to be in their mid-twenties or so, all various races and genders.

“These are our volunteers for the night. All of em into spooky things, so easy targets. So listen. Dunno if you can hear that…” Slope tapped an ear so that everyone would listen for some faint scratching noises. “…But I’ve got about thirty Nightmares in a box, all set for, uh… well, dinner, yeah? You’re each gonna be setting up a sigil to protect a specific Human. Inna field, there are only so many people you can visit in a night, even with Time on your side. We work 100 hour shifts per night, typically. Six days in a row, one day of rest. Only way to make sure Nightmares who are a little less brainy stay in their zones for a particular night is to set up barriers here and there. Like a puppy pen, yeah? You never know if it’s gonna be a Whelp or a Glutton out and about, so use your best judgement of what sigils to use, or it won’t help. Do what ya can to keep em off your Human, but don’t let a Nightmare touch your face. Any contact with the face will bring Bad Memories to the surface for ya, and might trigger a panic or somethin’. Dunno how good you all are with handling Feelings, but we’ll get to that later. For now, go stand by your assigned Human. One ought not to cause you any problem to protect, specially since they aren’t movin’, but… we’ll see.”

Hesitantly, each of the Sprites fanned out to stand near to their assignments. Most of them had never even seen an actual Human before, at the very least not this close up. It was so important to avoid them nowadays that the activity seemed heavily taboo. Slope meandered back to the circle he’d made and plopped down into a comfortable sit.

“Oh, yeah. One more fing…” he added, removing his glasses to reveal the black sclera and bright orange irises of a Nightmare. “Nightmares work inna dark.”

All of the orbs suddenly went out, leaving the room pitch black apart from the gentle pink glow of Slope’s sigil. Some of the recruits gave a startled yelp and quickly brightened their glow to see what was happening.

“No, I wouldn’t do that.” Slope called as the crash of a box breaking could be heard. “Use your other senses. Night Sight is good, but if you dun have that, sense Hearts or temperatures. Scents. Sounds. Thoughts, if you’ve got that ability. Your glow means they can see you a long time before you see-“ he cut off as the Lightning Sprite was tackled to the ground. “Yeah. Like that. Well, DO somefink, eh??? Shock him off you!”

The bewildered Sprite gave the Nightmare a jolting poke, stunning it away briefly. He breathed a sigh of relief, only to turn around and see that he’d chosen a poor sigil and left his Human getting their Dream slurped out. He tsked in disappointment.

“Bad luck, mate. Go help someone else!” Slope yelled. “No shame in using the buddy system if you need it! Make it work!”

Only three Sprites seemed to have a good hold on their assignments. Their sigils were working perfectly. Not bad at all for a first run. A few Whelps noticed the sit-in Humans and split their maws wide to release a mist to promote sleep. The substance bounced harmlessly off of Slope’s circle, as did any creature who attempted to scurry up and try to break through physically. It was masterful.

“Right, kids, that’s well and good, but what if you didn’t have time to make your marks, eh?” the Hunter snapped a hand up and all of the recruits’ sigils blacked out. They were completely gone.

The Love Sprite gasped and splashed out the contents of a bottle of Gibble Juice as a repellant. It worked, but also stirred her Human out of his deep sleep into a lighter doze as it spattered against his cheek. Points would be docked. The Vine Sprite worked with the Lightning Sprite to lay out Mirth sparkles as a makeshift border. This worked well, so a few others duplicated the effect. At least until a Glutton tripped an unsuspecting Rain Sprite and startled him into conjuring a sprinkling of water over his Human. This washed the Mirth away and properly woke the woman he’d been protecting. Slope vanished the Human away, per a prior arrangement to handle things when they went off course.

“Ears open, ears open, move along!” Slope called.

Towards the back, an Orchard Sprite began to panic, which distracted a Starlight Sprite. Both ended up being tagged in the face by Whelps. Slope summoned them both to his side and vanished away their Human charges.

“Yeah, you’re done, loves. You’re done. Drink your Gibble. It’ll fade.” he told them softly, pouring out doses of glowing pink Juice.

The Hunter sighed and rubbed his eyes, slowly drawing his fingers down to pinch the bridge of his nose. This was enough of an evaluation as far as he was concerned. One snap of his fingers sent all of the slumbering Humans back home and flicked the orb lights back on. The Nightmares hissed in protest. Slope merely put his sunglasses back on and made a shooing motion with one hand.

“On your bike, go home.” Slope mumbled.

Surprisingly, all of the Nightmares in the room scuttled off without question.

Once the Sprites had all gathered their senses, they rushed in close.

“How did you DO that?!” the Vine Sprite squeaked.

“Is it because of your Turned Eyes???” the Ember Sprite demanded bluntly.

“Is your arm turned, too? That’s why it’s covered up???” a Bubble Sprite wanted to know. “And why penguins on your feet? Does that ward off anything??? Is it a sacred bird?”

Slope’s eyebrows shot up, and he held out his hands in a calming gesture.

“Er… Yeah. Let’s take it slow.” he suggested, motioning everyone to sit. “So… yeah, I’ve got parts of me turned. Usually it happens quick if your Light starts goin’ out, but I said… know what? I’m only gonna let myself be sad here… and here.” Slope pointed to his sunglasses, and then his arm. “Yeah. So it dun spread any further than that.”

“Wait… you’re sad… in your arm?” the Love Sprite asked slowly.

“Well. Yeah. Got a sad arm.” Slope shrugged.

Each Sprite shared a dumbfounded expression. How did that even work???

“This job gets to you. Maybe you can hold off a while, but it gets to you. Know what? That’s okay. S’okay to be sad, to get depressed, to feel hopeless sometimes. S’okay. Let yourself feel it so you can work it out in here.” he tapped his temple, then his chest. “And here. Summin we noticed after a while, is that if you hold onto a certain Deep moment of depression without facing it fully, it’ll hollow out parts of you like a cavity. If you’re good at compartmentalizing, you can keep it contained, but not many Beings are… y’know… good. So let things go. Be honest about how bad you feel when you’ve had a tough time, because if you bury it, it’ll take root and grow. Now, I could cut all this out and be done with it. Silt did it when she was turning, and it stopped any spread. But I like it, you know? To me, this is like… a dunno, a badge of what I’ve done to save our kind. I’m a gap between the good and the bad things. Because I embrace what I’ve overcome… it dun spread. Been this way for the last three hundred years.” he made a grumpled noise at the startled Sprites. “I’m not the only one who’s done it. Flip is good at reasoning these things out, so she lets herself get consumed a little, too, when she needs to process pains. Never much, but we’ve been able to learn a lot from it. She somehow always forces it to completely recede, which had never been heard of before. Summin about getting numb to the pain, prolly. A lot of our new routines come from her experiments, and it’s revolutionized the business. We kept burning through Hunters until it was just down to me and Silt. Dark times, those. But when you take the time to learn, by and by things’ll get easier for ya. Keeping my body this way makes my job a little easier. And I’ll take what I can get, yeah?”

He rolled up his sleeve to show the inky, blackened arm.

“I can shoo the weaker ones back because they think I’m one of them. Not too bright, so they assume I’m one of the Warriors or a Sage.” he continued, rolling his sleeve back down. “Problem is, I’m a little Mirth intolerant now. Not fully, I can still drink and process Gibble and all, but it gives me heartburn. So from time to time I’ll have to mix it with Dream. I get em donated by some of the Humans I know, so it’s good. The ones what like spooky things, all o’ those guys you kinda… made into lunch. Yeah. They’re my friends. Don’t go trying to do a partial turn yourselves, though. Moon Sprites are resilient enough for this mess, but the rest of you, not so much. No offense. You don’t have the crystal core for it. S’not your fault. You won’t be in charge of huge populations anyway, so it’ll be more about practice than anything else. Your work load won’t be bad enough to worry on it if you keep your Mirth levels healthy.”

Everyone murmured among themselves for a few moments, whispers echoing in the cavern walls.

“Um. So is that why you wear the long sleeve? To cover up, to avoid social stigma?” a Daisy Sprite asked.

“Eh? No, I’ve always had one long. That arm’s always colder than the other. Poor circulation, I s’pose.” Slope replied.

“Aaaaaand the penguins???” the Bubble Sprite asked again. She really wanted to know.

“Oh. Well, I like penguins.”

Fair enough. The Sprites passed around bottles of Gibble for a boost to shake off their nerves, waiting for Slope to continue with the lesson. Several moments went by in silence. After clearing his throat, the recovered Rain Sprite leaned in closer until he realized that the Hunter was snoring again. So he reached out to give him a tap, only to have his wrist grabbed up with a firm, blackened hand. Slope snorted awake and let the alarmed Rain Sprite go.

“Sorry. Sorry. Dun touch me if I nod off. That arm dun sleep and it gets defensive.” he yawned. “Just make a noise or somefink. Uh. Right. One last thing to cover, then we’re gonna just have to do individual training nights. Tag-along shifts for all of you after I write up the evaluations. Just need to, ah…” Slope waved a hand and summoned one of the Human targets back. “Yeah. This is Greg. Got a bit of Nightmare residue in him, so we’re gonna have to clear it out. You can clear Guardian tar with Gibble Mist or Juice if it’s on a person or in a room, but when it’s in a person’s mind, you’re better off reaching in.”

The Human gave an awkward wave before conking out on the floor at a touch of Slope’s finger. The Hunter cushioned the fall magically, but it was still quite rag-doll-ish and comical.

“Night, Greg.” Slope saluted lazily. “Ehhh, so. First, to clear this residue, just rub your hands together to build up a charge, then phase through the temple. Either side is fine. You can go through the eye if you need to, but that’s always trickier. Then just sweep your hand around a little, twirl your fingers and it ought to all gather on you like a cobweb. Then pull out. Be gentle and they’ll never know you were there. You could also, ah… yeah, the Gibble Mist will clear it if they breathe it through the nose, but if they’re mouth-breathing it won’t reach the right mucus membrane… biology… stuff, I dunno. Up the nose. Sinuses.” he gestured in a lackadaisical manner. “Lastly, you can clear it by pushing your own presence into their mind. It acts like a positivity magnet, and you can gather and drain it out that way. Only works if you have a familiar connection with the target, though.”

One at a time, the Sprites took turns pulling a little of the residue web out until they all had it gathered to their talons.

“If you ever need to, that’s also the basics on pulling out small curses. Curses, you salt the residue like a slug to kill em. They’ll scream, but it dun actually hurt it. No nerve endings, but it’ll scream anyway because it can’t fulfill its purpose. For this stuff, though, just rinse it with a little Gibble. Or bottle it to be disposed of en masse. If it’s already manifested into a Bad Dream, takes a little more effort to tug out, but bottle it up or contain it in a light orb. Yeah. Takes too much time and effort to destroy those one by one.”

Obediently, each Sprite sprinkled droplets from Gibble bottles onto their hands and washed away the Gloom. Seemed simple enough.

“If we’re using up a lot of Juice on the job, will we be reimbursed for it?” the Lighting Sprite worried. “Seems like… a lot to use between defense and clearing.”

“Eh, you’ll get a certain amount for free before you go out. Flip distills it for the Hunters, and she’s actually one of the major producers that supplies the shops. So don’t worry about running out.” Slope assured them.

Everyone heaved a collective sigh. It was a difficult thing to distil, and the process meant that not everyone was up to the task of making it themselves. Purchase was almost always necessary.

“Right. Now look, he’s dreaming proper again. Rapid eye movement… see it? Feel the thoughts a little? If you need to pull a Dream out… or, honestly, if you sense one you like… you can take it. Reach in after it’s had time to mature… and cradle it out.” Slope showed them how to phase through and properly cup the Dream. “It won’t hurt em. They just won’t remember what they dreamed of. Only Nightmares leave residue, so your hands are clean, so to speak, ne? Which means I can’t grab em out with the turned arm, or I just made more work for myself.”

The Hunter pocketed the Dream after enclosing it in an orb, then vanished the Human away again. He seemed particularly drained.

“Yeah. So I’ve gotta go get some rest. You’ll get your tag-along schedules in a few days. Uh… the rest of you… sit-ins… you can look in on the last class, but tag-alongs are only for Sprites.”

“Sir Slope?” a Rock Sprite prompted. “When will we have to be ready for the advanced class tests?”

For a moment, the Hunter seemed confused.

“Yooou… won’t all make it to the advanced class testing phase. I mean, you could if you applied yourself. But you won’t want to. Not really. I’d say audit it if you want to know what it’s like, but unless you want to face hoards and practice handling your minds against the Royal Nightmares… the tests you’d be put through will scar you. Not sayin’ that to scare you. Just how it is. I mean, you’ll learn other things, too, like Flip was talking about Gibble production basics and all. The Balance Program. Negotiations and all. But I dun recommend asking for an actual field test at that level.”

The cavern went uncomfortably quiet. Nobody pressed for further information, knowing that individual training was next, and that they should focus on that. Slope gave a gentle wave and sent everyone on their way.

[deansleather]

Overprotective

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Prompt(s): “What happened doesn’t change anything” for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing hiatus challenge week 10, The Grey Man for @sisterhoodofsam Monster Rejects 

Summary: All you want is to help Sam and Dean with hunts; this is the last thing in the world that Sam wants. You become determined to prove your capability, but sometimes the middle ground is the best place to be, especially when you love somebody. 

If you’d like to join any of my tag lists please message/ ask or add yourself to my google doc tag list! Whatever is easiest for you!

Word Count: 3688

Warnings: injury, blood, a lot of hunting, I tried my hand at a scarier type of writing in parts

A/N:  Kind of a new style (ish), just trying out scary. Please let me know what you think, because FEEDBACK IS LOVED AND NEEDED!!

“Every man I meet wants to protect me. I can't figure out what from.” ― Mae West 

           Sam and you filled the silence only with the clanks of your forks touching plates. Dean had gone out for a drink earlier, and you were too heated to cook, especially not while Sam continued to stew over their current case. Takeout food seemed like the easiest option, except it took away all the simpler ice-breakers. “Dinner tastes great tonight, honey” is a whole hell of a lot easier than “You’re not hunting with us no matter how much you pout.” Sam cleared his throat.

           “Thanks for grabbing take out, Y/n/n,” he said. You nodded curtly.

           “Mhm,” you answered. “Good thing I’m strong enough to do that on my own, right?”

           He rolled his eyes, continuing the dinner into an ever more uncomfortable silence. You were dating a hunter for God’s sake, how did he expect this conversation not to come up? Of course you would want to help. He sat over books for hours, mulling and taking notes as he collected dust along with the rest of their library, leaving you alone in bed. He’d be gone for days, while you were stuck at home worrying. He and Dean were practically leaping in front of bullets to save each other without thought. Was it really all that crazy that you might want to help?

           You took your finished plates to the kitchen, sighing as you began to run the sink. You didn’t expect to become the bunker’s housewife, but you’d slowly morphed into the 50’s stereotype of a woman. Staying home, tidying up and looking after the house while Sam and Dean did all the real work. Screw that. You did your best to contain a growl as Sam wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You remained focused on the dishes.

           “Y/n,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Talk to me.”

           “I’ll talk to you all night, Samuel,” you said. “But you don’t like my conversation topic.”

           “Bringing out the full name? Ouch.” You could feel him smirk. You’d yet to find anything amusing. “Look, it’s not that I think you can’t hunt, I just-“

           “No, that’s exactly what it is.” You spun around, poking at his chest with a soapy finger. “For whatever reason, you think I’m some prissy princess who can’t fend for herself. May I remind you, we met after I saved myself from a vampire?” His mouth was slightly agape as he fought for the words to say.

           “Yes, I remember Y/n, the head on the floor and all. Why would you want that to be your everyday life?”

           “Because I chose to date a man who hunts monsters. I knew what I was signing up for Sam.”

           “Yes, the worry, the stress, the fear.” Sam’s voice raised slightly. “You’re already sacrificing so much just being around us, why add more pressure?”

           “I’d feel a hell of a lot better if I was out there helping you bozos instead of stuck here like your maid!” Sam sighed, his exasperation just irking you more.

“I’ve always offered to help with cleaning, I was the one who did it before you moved in.”

“That’s not why I’m mad and you know it,” you muttered, pushing past him. Just as you were about to leave the kitchen, he called out to you.

“I don’t care how long you’re mad, Y/n.” His voice grew stern, though he just looked exhausted. “You’re not hunting with us. Ever.”

You held back from cursing, continuing to stalk off to your room, locking the door behind you. Fine, you thought. If I can’t hunt with you, I guess I’ll just do it myself.

~~~

           You rubbed your eyes, your hands tight on the wheel as you tried to fight your sleepiness. Exhaustion made you lose nearly all your speed, reflexes, and even some of your intelligence. It wasn’t the best state to be driving in, especially at night, but you were too close to the bunker to grab a hotel room for the night. After your fight with Sam, you became determined to find your own case and solve it by yourself, but that turned out to be quite difficult with them constantly on the lookout for cases, not to mention you shared a room with Sam. It was beyond frustrating, you felt like a grounded teen, stuck in the house all day. Today, you just couldn’t take it anymore, going out in the early morning and driving all day, leaving nothing but a note for Sam and then turning your phone off. It felt good to just drive, stopping only when you were hungry or there was something you wanted to see, but after a full day of it, your butt and legs were practically screaming at you.

           It was a straight shot, just continue down the back road and you’d eventually merge onto the gravel that led to the bunker. You could probably close your eyes right then and there just so long as you kept the wheel straight. Even with as good of a day as you had, a sense of unease crawled up your spine, the back of your neck feeling as though needles were pricking near your hairline. You turned on the car’s brights, keeping an intense eye on the world around your car. Something wasn’t right.

           Your hands held so tight to the wheel you were afraid you might break it, a cold sweat breaking on your forehead. What the hell was happening? Your breathing became labored as your chest collapsed in on itself, or at least it felt like. A panic attack had struck you, seemingly out of nowhere. As you continued down the road, your head lights did little to break through the thick fog. You couldn’t see at all, your only indication you were going the right way the gravel crunching beneath the weight of your car. The panic attack subsided, but the air of stress remained, your whole body hot with dread.

           Multiple things happened at once; all so fast you could hardly see any of it. You had cracked the window, just for the hope of some cool air. Just as you did, the fog began to enter the car, looking thicker than you’d remembered fog to. It stifled your breathing, and just as you were about to close the window, a dark cloaked figure emerged from the fog, standing mere feet away from the front of your car. Your instincts finally kicked in, and you quickly turned out of the way, the fog pushing you even harder in the direction. You were confused by the assistance until you saw what lied ahead; a large, impenetrable oak. As quick as your stressed body could, you slammed on the breaks, closing your eyes for what you hoped to be a gentle crash.

           Opening one eye at first, you took in what you could of your surroundings. No crash, no demonic being standing above you, everything was for the most part intact. With a deep breath, you backed away the from the forest, tearing ass to get home.

           You were freaked out when you finally parked in front of the bunker’s door but did your best to push it down. The boys were occupied with looking into some vamp case down south, there was no talk of a mysterious figure that fucked with you in the fog. There was no way you imagined it, no matter how exhausted you were, and you’re mind kept replaying the night over and over. You had just found your first solo case.

~~~

           Things were relatively quiet for a while after the incident. Truth be told, you didn’t even know where to begin with research, the bunker’s library so vast and seemingly unorganized. You figured there probably was some method to the chaos, Sam got around pretty easy, but you just couldn’t seem to pin it down. Besides, you really didn’t want to raise suspicions, and lugging around hundred-pound books definitely would. So, until you could figure out a better angle, you went along with your normal business.

           Even with dropping it for a bit, your mind was still consumed, making you a little airier to those around you. Sam was worried, but mostly just glad you were talking to him again. Dean was oblivious to your drama as per usual, too caught up in his own mental state to worry about much else around him. You tried to find joy in your usual passions; reading, TV, sleeping. None of it worked, the dark figure from that foggy night haunted your every thought.

           The boys eventually gathered up enough data to go hunt the vamps, their packing making you both anxious and eager. Finally, you were getting the chance to solve a case on your own, prove to both yourself and the boys that you were more than capable, but fear seemed to trickle slowly into your mind. What if you couldn’t handle it? If you died, you knew that both Sam and Dean would surely feel to blame, holding that guilt until their last breath. Were you just being silly, rebelling against the perfectly comfortable status quo? The thoughts seemed to swallow you whole, but the brothers were off before you could change your mind, a sweet kiss from Sam as your hopefully temporary goodbye.

           It was only a couple days since they’d left, but you already felt like you were going insane. You were certain that Sam must have magic powers, as there was no way in hell that there was a rhyme or reason to the library. You were alone in the bunker, too scared to go outside without some solid lead on not only what you were hunting, but how to kill the bastard. After day four, you decided to consume your thoughts into another healthier passion; cooking.

           You opened the fridge with slight apprehension, for whatever reason. What, was the monster hiding in the veggie drawer? You knew better, but something did feel off. As you stood peering into the fridge, the most horrendous smell began emanating out, making you grimace and quickly slam it shut. Immediately, that sense of dread returned, just like the night of your almost wreck, crawling up and down your spine. You went into overdrive, doing everything you could think of to protect yourself. You grabbed out an iron knife and a flask of holy water, some salt from the cabinet, and a cross from the wall, hurrying to the couch. You quickly sprinkled a circle of salt all around it, hopping in with just seconds to spare. As you looked around, you saw the thick fog surrounding you, closing in ever so slowly. It was almost cruel, how slowly it was moving towards you, just stretching out the anticipation. Your breathing was labored, your head feeling light. You should’ve called the boys, but even at your lowest point, you couldn’t put down your stubborn ways.    

           You were about to bite the bullet and just call when you noticed the fog had stopped. Looking down, it paused at the circle of salt, wrapping around and searching for a crack. You sighed heavily, rubbing your face in relief.

           “Well,” you muttered to yourself. “Looks like I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

~~~

           Luckily, when you woke up the fog was gone, but that didn’t stop you from taking a few hours to leave the safety of the salt ring. Eventually, your stomach yelled at you to brave the kitchen. The smell from the night before remained, making you gag. As you peered into the fridge you noticed all perishables were moldy, even the freshest stuff. You scavenged the cabinets, and the only thing you could find that wasn’t decomposing before your eyes was a box of crackers. It would have to do.

           You ran to the bedroom, grabbing your laptop and some more practical, possible-hunt clothes, shamelessly returning to your hideout on the couch as fast as possible. You knew it wasn’t “professional” (was that even a thing when it came to hunting?) but you resorted to google. It wasn’t like you were getting very far with the bunker’s resources anyway.

           Nothing for fog monsters fit, neither for car accident monsters. You went through every possible wording of your situation and nada. With a jaded sigh, you attempted one last useless search; rotten food monster. It was laughable, but it was all you had left. Of course, nothing grand came up instantly, but you did look through some online food forums, just for the hell of it. You were ready to give up, but then you read the latest comment.

           The potato rot has been increasingly bad for me as well. It has been quite foggy in Ireland lately, perhaps I’ve got the Fear Liath after me!

           You read the line over and over. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Entering in the name she had used, you miraculously found some leads at last. The Fear Liath, or The Grey Man as he was more casually called, originated in Irish and Scottish folk lore. He was an omen, known for causing wrecks. It was all there; the rotting food, the foggy figure, the car crashes. You had finally found your monster. Now; how to kill the thing.

           It was considered a fairy, so the salt and iron knife were key, but not so much on the holy water. Still, you didn’t think you could exactly stab the thing, not without being able to see within the fog. There had to be a way. Fifteen pages into Google later, you finally found something.

           “The Grey Man was once considered a God until the surge of Christianity demoted him to fae. He is said to be bitter about it still, his wrath falling particularly hard on those with religious affiliation.” You were friends with an angel, after all. “If you feel The Grey Man is haunting you, get him off your back with a simple Christian prayer. The more iron crosses, the better.”

           It seemed way too simple, but what options did you have? With a deep breath, you emerged from your salt circle, grabbing the few iron crosses from the walls. You looked up the first prayer you could think of, holding your phone and the crosses in a death grip as you left the bunker. You hadn’t thought about how you’d get him to come back, but you didn’t have to worry long. The same panic washed over you once more, the fog moving in slowly towards you. You swallowed, seeing the outline of The Grey Man within. You held up the crosses, spitting out the prayer as fast as you could. The fog slowly dissipated as you did, but the figure still remained. Why were these damn prayers so long? You tripped over the words as he got closer and closer, the blood rushing to your head, making it difficult to even see the words on your phone. The closer he got, the more intense the panic became. Finally, you reached the end of the prayer.

           You looked up reluctantly, watching as the fog continued to dissipate into weak wisps, the figure within blending out as well. You heard a pained scream come from within the fog, so loud you covered your ears, taking a few steps back. With one more scream, the fog seemed to explode, completely dispersing. You took a few moments to breathe, watching for any other signs of him. As the panic subsided entirely, you felt sure that you had done it. First case down.

           You smiled to yourself, letting out a shocked laugh. You did it, all by yourself, on something as ambiguous as a fog monster. You felt on top of the world, dropping off the crosses and grabbing your keys from the bunker. You drove to a dive bar not far from the bunker, feeling the need for a celebratory drink. You usually left the drinking to Dean, but after the anxiety of the last few days, you felt you deserved it. You no more than parked when your phone began to ring. Sam. You answered in a cheerful tone, finding it difficult not to gloat right then and there.

           “Hey baby, what’s up?”

           “Y/n,” he said, his voice thick. Your eyebrows pulled together.

           “Are you crying? What’s going on?”  You revved your engine, tearing back onto the road without second thought. That was a no on the drink, you guessed.

           “There’s…there’s so many of them. They have Dean. I’ve called every hunter I can think of, no one’s picking up. Not even Cas.” It was the first time you’d ever heard Sam so scared; he hardly ever showed it when he was.

           “Send me the address,” you said. “I’m on my way.”

~~~

           You drove past some old building’s parking lot. While abandoned, there were plenty of cars parked. You continued on, parking on the side of the street where you saw the Impala. He had parked near a cornfield, the high stalks hiding both of you from any peering eyes. You hopped out the car, running into Sam’s arms as he leaned against the Impala.

           “Oh Y/n,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he nuzzled into your neck. “I’m so sorry I had to bring you into this.”

           “Stop it,” you said, pulling back slightly. You patted his cheek, looking him in the eyes. “I’d do anything for both of you. I’m glad you’re finally letting me help.” He swallowed, obviously not as glad as you. You grabbed the keys from his hand, opening up the trunk and grabbing two machetes. You handed one to him.

           “Let’s do this, shall we?” He nodded, leading the way towards the creepy building.

~~~

           You stood, hunched over, taking a moment to catch your breath. They were finally all dead, all the vamps wiped from existence. Somewhere amidst the chaos, you and Sam split up, which was a notoriously bad idea. You went through the rooms of the building tentatively, worried about a last-minute ambush. It seemed all the vamps were truly dead, because you were confronted by a copious amount of blood on the floor, and no one was on their knees with a straw. The only two people in the room were Sam and Dean, Sam only the floor, unconscious.

           “Sam!” You were by him in an instant, feeling his pulse and pushing the hair from his face. “C’mon baby, talk to me.” Unintelligible mumbles. You looked to Dean for guidance. You knew how to deal with killing vamps, researching, hunting, but you had no clue how to deal with this. Dean looked just as panicked, which did little to comfort. In a moment of clarity and pure adrenaline, you realized you needed to move, and quick.

           “Let’s carry him,” you demanded, standing and grabbing one of his arms. Dean followed suit, no questions asked. He looked pretty rough around the edges himself, but you could hardly think about anything but Sam.

           “We need to hurry,” Dean said, more to himself than anything. You nodded.

           “Yeah,” you replied. “Because I’m not losing him.”

           “You and me both, Y/n.”

~~~

           At long last, Sam’s eye fluttered open. Your heart sped, so thankful to see those pretty eyes again. You stood from your uncomfortable chair and moved to him, stroking his hair mindlessly. You hated hospitals with all your might, but you’d live there if it meant being with Sam.

           “Hi baby,” he coughed, his voice raspy. You shook your head.

           “Don’t strain yourself,” you said, stroking his cheek. “Just get better.” He nodded, letting his eyes rest again. You sat on the edge of the hospital bed, the beeping from the machines around you becoming a comfortable lullaby. You held his hand, probably too tight, but you couldn’t let go. You just needed him, needed to know that he was okay.

           “What happened doesn’t change anything,” he rasped, finally breaking the silence.

           “What?”

           “I still don’t want you hunting.” You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head.

           “May I remind you, you’re the one in the hospital bed, not me? And that I’m the one who saved both your ass and Dean’s?”

           “I know,” he groaned. “And I know you’ll hold that over my head forever. But I won’t risk you being in my spot.”

           “You know, I solved a whole case on my own while you were gone,” you said, reveling in your own glory once more. You even shimmied a bit. The beeping on the monitor increased exponentially.

           “What?” His panic was evident, somehow making him look even paler. Suddenly, you didn’t feel as proud. With the look on Sam’s face…you almost felt ashamed. You weighed your options; that case was supposed to be your proving point, the evidence to show you could handle the life. With the condition that he was in and his constant doting over you, you were afraid the news might break him. You shook your head, faking a laugh.

           “I’m kidding, dufus.” He rolled his eyes, smiling in relief.

           “Good, because then I’d have to kill you, and I’d never be able to leave you alone again.” he joked, though there was a serious note to his voice. It was only partly a joke, and you both knew it.

           “Hmm, I don’t know. That sounds pretty nice to me. You know, minus the killing part, of course.”

           He scoffed, looking at your intertwined hands for a moment. His expression softened, his eyes glazing over slightly. He held them up.

           “You see this? Us?” he said. You nodded. “I don’t want to lose this. I can’t.” You sighed. A few days before, you would have debated with him to hell and back, but after seeing Sam in pain… you were tempted to stop him from hunting. You looked out the window, thinking. It couldn’t be dropped; you were dating a hunter, living in a hunter info hub, and friends with an angel. This life was your life now, whether Sam liked it or not. But then you thought back to those nights alone, how terrified and unsure you were. It definitely wasn’t as thrilling as you’d imagined.

           “Alright,” you murmured, looking him in the eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll take baby steps.”

           “Baby steps?” He raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk forming on his lips. He always loved your little deals.

           “Yeah. You know, there’s no need to become a full-on hunter at once. I just ask that you let me tag along and help when I can.” You smiled, flitting your eyelashes at him. “Deal?” He groaned, but nodded.

           “How am I supposed to say no to that face?” You giggled, leaning down to kiss him. His hand cupped your jaw, both of you smiling into the kiss. “But I still might never leave you alone again. You know, just for…safe keeping.”

           “I’ll allow it,” you relented, lying beside him in the bed. You rested your hand on his chest, just thankful to still feel a beat. No matter what, you could never lose that.

~~~~~~~

It’s late so I’m adding Michelle’s and the Pond’s tags later

Forever and Sam Tags: 

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